For those of us who have been covering this story every waking moment for the past 10 days, Saturday is a moment to reflect and recharge. On a professional level, we have just taken part in an unprecedented media event: the final descent of John Paul’s health, the “death watch”, the celebration of his life, the descending crowds of pilgrims and world leaders, a breathtaking funeral, the first murmurings of the race for succession. Most of the top anchors from the TV networks have packed up and gone home. Some will come back for the conclave in eight days. The secret election is sure to make dramatic television: Twice a day, the news networks will again zoom in on St. Peter’s reminding us how much is at stake. The cameraman this time with shift just off to the right of the basilica, where a rudimentary chimney will rise up over the Sistine Chapel…Gentleman, has the jury reached a verdict?

Until the Cardinals are locked away in the conclave, we permanent Rome-based reporters will continue scouring the town in search of clues of which Cardinals are emerging as front runners. The only potential shift registered so far is that Cardinals may be forced to take into account the unprecedented reaction this past week to John Paul II's death, with pilgrims effectively demanding that the successor have at least some of the same kind of personal appeal as Wojtyla. "It diminishes the idea of a transitional Pope," a well-placed Vatican official told me, noting that such candidates as Camillo Ruini and Giovanni Batista Re, who are short on charisma, may be fading from contention. Meanwhile it remains to be seen just how much good (new) information is going to seep out before April 18th.

I watched Ratzinger's homily close-up on TV in a room rented by TIME at a hotel just outside the Vatican Walls. It was neither a theological tour de force nor a coded message on the future of the Church. Instead, Ratzinger delivered a simple testament to the life and papacy of John Paul II. Afterwards, we had to hustle through a number of security checkpoints to reach the colonnade alongside St. Peter's Basilica, where we watched as a dozen major duomos carried the simple wooden coffin up the steps of the Basilica. And as they reached the top step, with hundreds of world leaders, senior clerics and millions of faithful looking on, the giant bells of St. Peter's began to toll their final farewell to the Pope.

Among those looking on was President Bush, the first American president to attend a papal funeral. I had been in the Vatican press pool during President Bush's last visit to the Pope in June, 2004 — he had listened intently as the Pope struggled to read a statement praising President Bush's stance on “life” issues but restating the Vatican's opposition to the war in Iraq. John Paul II had a major impact on world affairs in the first two decades of his papacy, but its final chapter found him making a passionate, but ultimately futile call for peace. And that's a reminder that his successor will have to find his own voice in a world dominated by the American superpower.

As for how the world will learn of their decision, the story of how the news of the Pope's death broke on the wires may be instructive. Everyone was obviously in a race to be first to break the news, which was simultaneously released to dozens of news outlets via an email from Vatican spokesman Joaquin Navarro-Valls. As AP's veteran Vatican correspondent Victor Simpson put it, “In a case like this you just don't want to get beat.” But the bespectacled New Yorker, who has covered John Paul II's papacy from Day 1 was, in fact, pipped at the post by the Italian wire service ANSA, whose Vatican bureau chief Gianluca Vannucchi got Navarro's email on his Blackberry and ran into the press center yelling "Franco! Franco! Franco!" His colleague, Franco Pisano, was already hitting the letter T for "transmetti" (send) on his keyboard, followed by S for "si." That put the Italians a couple of seconds ahead of AP, whose Bill Kole hit "send" on a newsflash prewritten by Simpson — "Vatican says Pope has died" — after being phoned by colleague Nicole Winfield, whose Blackberry had vibrated with the news. Still, AP and ANSA were ahead of the pack. When a new pope is chosen, they'll all be waiting, fingers poised over the "send" button, for a puff of white smoke to appear over the Sistine Chapel. The name will be announced shortly after to the piazza — and maybe simultaneously via another mass email from Navarro.

Vatican City, April 6, 9pm
Beyond the elaborate ceremonies and endless stream of affection, the end of a pontificate also brings less poignant moments. One example yesterday involved a long time employee of the Vatican's media operations who has never been very popular with the press corps. Yesterday, during a particularly busy moment in the Sala Stampa (Press Room), this Vatican official booted a senior Italian correspondents from the lobby area for no apparent reason. "You and I have an outstanding debt from the beginning of this pontificate," the reporter shouted as he was being led out the door by the arm. "And those debts are coming due."

The press office is, in fact, likely to see a significant turnover once the new pope is chosen, as are the major dicasteries responsible for Church governance. With the death of a pope, all top Vatican officials automatically lose their jobs, except the Camerlengo who is responsible for organizing the interregnum activities such as the funeral and conclave, as well as the head of the Apostolic Penitentiary (who is responsible for confessions), currently an American James Cardinal Stafford, and the Vicar of Rome, Camillo Cardinal Ruini (who oversees the diocese of Rome).

For obvious reasons, though, the press office run by longtime Vatican spokesman Joaquin Navarro-Valls will continue to operate through the transition period. Despite continuing complaints that he is not as forthcoming as some would like, Navarro-Valls has gotten good grades for his handling of the pontiff's last months. After he had rushed to Gemelli hospital on Feb. 1, there was an initial attempt to sweeten the picture of John Paul's health: the Vatican feared a groundswell from the faithful questioning the authority of an enfeebled (and potentially incapacitated) pontiff. But the pontiff's final 72 hours were a model of transparency from the press office, as Navarro confirmed his deteriorating condition in regular briefings.

For years, news organizations had speculated over how the news of the Pope's death would get out to the world. Would it be leaked ahead of time? Would there be a false scoop that would set off flurries of speculation? Would the Vatican keep the news secret for hours or days until it could straighten out the situation inside the Curia? The Rome bureau chiefs of news wire agencies and television stations lost sleep for fear of missing the historic news flash. Instead, Navarro's simultaneous email to the major news agencies at the same time that Archbishop Leonardo Sandri announced the news to the faithful in St. Peter's Square, worked seamlessly. And so John Paul's final act — dying in public — was as grandiose and universal as his life itself.

The story today continues to be the crowds pouring slowly through St. Peter's Square to catch a glimpse of the Pope lying in state. The Vatican estimates there are 600,000 people a day filing past the body — seven people every second. And Italian media estimates are closer to 1 million. Even then, some are left disappointed: Carmella Paolillo had taken an overnight train from her small town near the southern city of Salerno to pay her respects. But by day's end, after waiting nearly 10 hours, she had to give up, with the Basilica finally in sight. "I'm so sorry. And it's not because I'm tired, but I've got to catch my train. I have nowhere to stay tonight." The 53-year-old middle school teacher had seen the Pope twice while he was alive, once from his apartment overlooking St. Peter's square and once, in the early '90s, when he visited her hometown of Nocera Inferiore. As for seeing him before he is buried, Paolillo would have to settle for television. "I just wanted to see him. I don't know why I came all this way, but it wasn't for curiosity."

The conclave to choose a new pontiff has been scheduled to begin Monday, April 18. There will be one ballot that afternoon, which traditionally is a chance for Cardinals to vote for a sentimental choice as a special honor. The real race begins Tuesday morning, with the first two ballots. More to come in this diary, of course, on what's at stake in the campaign for succession.

There are currently 3,500 accredited journalists covering the event, and we are all trying to figure out when interest in this story may begin to wane. Most of the major network anchors plan to leave after the funeral on Friday. But many will be back in time for the conclave. During the conclave, there will still be plenty to chatter about: speculating on the choice of successor, explaining the process, remarking on the secrecy. But TV — which until now has been able to show the dramatic live images of the crowds, of St. Peter's, of the Pope's body lying in state — may have days to fill with recorded images supplied by the Holy See showing the interiors of the various chambers where the cardinals will meet, eat and sleep, and from which the outside world will be tightly excluded.

April 5, 2005, 9pm
Watching the Pope Lying In State

The traditional pageantry, mystery and power of Vatican rituals has awed the faithful for centuries. But the convergence of John Paul II's massive popularity with around-the-clock news coverage has created a spectacle that will go down with the ages. Today alone some 600,000 people have filed slowly, step by step, waiting as long as 14 hours, for just a brief glance at the body of the pontiff lying in state in St. Peter's Basilica. Meanwhile, new details are emerging about the elaborate plans for the Pope's funeral and burial on Friday, and even a word or two about the Conclave that will choose a successor. For those of us assigned to cover this momentous and mind-boggling event, what better time to start keeping a reporter's log!

I spent an hour yesterday lining up with scores of journalists, clerics and diplomats to view the pontiff's body lying in state at the Clementine Chapel, before it was moved across to St. Peter's Basilica — John Paul II will have his final resting place in the crypt below. As the line moved very slowly up the staircase to the third floor, and then as we moved through the Chapel, the atmosphere was very somber. The rosary was being recited as we moved slowly past the pontiff's body, and I was struck by the presence of Archbishop Stanislaw Dziwisz, the pope's private secretary and the closest thing he had to family, who stood nearby, arms crossed, maintaining an intense vigil. I also saw the prefect of the papal household, Archbishop James Harvey originally of Milwaukee, sitting in a pew near the body.

The crowds hardly thin out, even into the night. The Basilica is closed for cleaning from 3 am to 5 am, but most of the people outside simply wait patiently for it to reopen. And they appear to be deeply moved by the experience of being part of this history unfolding before them. They chant the rosary, and sometimes just the name "Giovanni Paolo" in a rhythmic chorus, as they wait for hours to get a few seconds glance at the pontiff as they pass by his body.

At the press conference, we learned more about the funeral arrangements and the burial. There had been some speculation before yesterday's announcement that he is to be interred in the crypt, that his body would be brought back to Poland. But that proved unfounded. The rumor was another reminder that this man seemed to have two sides. He was a devoted patriot of his native Poland, but at the same time a supremely Roman pontiff, who saw himself as the rightful successor of Peter. He was a firm believer in tradition, but infinitely curious about other cultures. Ultimately, John Paul II opted for continuity in his choice of burial, and his body will be placed in the same part of the crypt where the body of Pope John XXIII had lain before it was moved into the basilica following his beatification. Given his popularity, it's quite likely that John Paul II will eventually also be beatified, and moved into the basilica.

The funeral will take place Friday at 10 am, local time. On Thursday night, they'll clear St. Peter's Square to prepare it for the funeral, and also ready the pontiff's body for burial. Archbishop Dziwisz will place a white silk veil over the pope's face, and his body will be placed in a simple cedar coffin, which will be put into a zinc coffin and then into an oak coffin, which will then be covered in marble and placed in the flat tomb inside the crypt. Inside the cedar coffin will be a small bag containing silver and bronze medallions depicting various important events in his papacy. Inside the coffin there will also be a lead tube bearing a written account of John Paul's life and papacy. The funeral service will be lead by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, Prefect of the Vatican's Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith who is given that responsibility as the dean of the college of cardinals.

Naturally, there was intense curiosity among the journalists over the details of the conclave at which some 117 cardinals — at least those of them healthy enough to make the trip to Rome — will choose a successor to Pope John Paul II. That event will begin some fifteen to twenty days after the pontiff's death, meaning one week from next Sunday at the earliest. But it is held in the deepest of secrecy, with the cardinals sequestered far more tightly than any jury in a celebrity trial in the U.S. A special hotel has been built inside the Vatican to house them during the conclave, and they'll have no access to the outside world — nor will the outside world have any access to them. They'll be allowed to take walks, but only in designated confined spaces within the Vatican. If, during the conclave itself, you hear of any "leaked" reports from inside, you can safely ignore them. We'll be lucky if we can find out what they're eating. (There's an old joke in Rome that the duration of the conclave depends on the quality of the food is: If they're being well-fed, it can last longer; if the cardinals are pining for their favorite trattoria, they may resolve their business earlier.) Yesterday, after viewing John Paul's body in the Clementine Chapel, I strolled out the long way from the Vatican walls to have another, closer look at the Santa Marta hotel where the Cardinals will be lodging. The sliding glass doors opened for me, but I only had time enough to glance at the entrance and lobby area before a stern-faced women, who had been chatting with two nuns, curtly told me I had to leave at once.