Constantly there were a lot of people

On duty I was usually until twenty (8 p.m.). In the afternoon, just about seventeen (5p.m.), the palace was deserted, and the Courtyard of St. Damascus was filled with incredible silence. At that time, we were waiting for individual special guests, who went to the Pope or to the Cardinal Secretary of State. Usually, late Sunday afternoons, a large group of Poles came to a private audience with the Holy Father in the Clementine Hall.
John Paul II constantly attracted crowds of people. Like a magnet. I remember that in the first years I had the impression that every day is similarly intense and similarly solemn. I couldn't tell the difference between a simple day of the week, or Sunday, or a holiday. Constantly there were a lot of people.
On May 18th each year, on his birthday, the Pope invited cardinals – his peers. They came to him for dinner. They gathered ahead of time in our lounge when the earlier official audience ended, and waited for the signal to go upstairs. Every year they looked around each other – there were twelve, maybe thirteen – and whispering they were jokingly asking: "Well, who is missing this year?" Over time, it so happened that every year one of them was missing... They had already crossed the age of eighty. I led some of them by hand to the Pope's apartment, because they were already weak, not very fit.
Magdalena Wolińska-Riedi "It happened in the Vatican"
Znak Publishing House. Kraków 2020
pages: 49 – 50