Authors Note: This chapter is... what it is. It was hard, and its something
that I'm sure made many of you mad (How can you kill Jed? Is what I'm
getting asked the most) but when I started the story, about four pages in,
I knew it was something that had to be done in order for me to do something
else which I assure will make most of you very, very happy. Here's where I
claim to be the saddest excuse for a graduate of catholic high school ever
in my attempts to do things right. I'm sure I'm failing miserably and I am
apologizing for that first and foremost. This chapter could not have been
possible without google.com, the key to my sanity, my quote collection,
Sister Karen Marie – well her memory at least (the power tripping nun from
hell) and then, most importantly, Amy for all the help as I remember that
retched woman and the horribly pointless things that she made us do.
Anyway, I'll shut up now and um... if I did this right, you may want to grab
some Kleenex.
Chapter Twenty One – The Grace Is Gone
If she could have located her ability to feel any sort of emotion, Gracie would have felt relief as she staggered into the empty back corner of Air Force One. Instead, she felt dull, her mind clouded over, as she took a seat and tucked her knees up to her chest, thankful to be the only one in the vicinity.
Hours, days even, had melted together since Sunday. If someone would have told her Saturday night that she would feel this horrible three days later, she never would have believed them, regardless of the circumstances. It was Wednesday now, and she was on Air Force One with the old Bartlet Administration on their way to Manchester New Hampshire for the funeral of former President Josiah Bartlet.
The last clear memory Gracie had was the sight of Zoey and Charlie leaving the bar. Everything else was just words without pictures. Donna speaking softly... "Jed's gone." Her father's voice distant in the background asking "When?" and then finally Ryan, clear as day, "Just now."
It was a shock. He had been sick. He had even told her that he was going to die she just didn't think a week after he'd broken the news that she'd never have the chance to properly say goodbye. It hurt like nothing she could remember. The last person to die who she was even remotely close to was Andrea Wyatt, Huck and Molly's mom. But Gracie was only ten at the time and never really felt the loss for herself, more as an extension of her feelings for Molly and Huck.
Gracie had gone in a few short days from not sleeping at all to sleeping too much. She remembered trying to talk with Evan as he sat with her the night before, telling her that she should go to Manchester without him, even though he had been invited and how she fell asleep practically mid sentence. If she could, she would have laughed, thinking about the damage that falling asleep on him must have done to his ego, but she couldn't bring herself to care. For some reason Jed's death had put a crack right in the middle of the road called their relationship and she didn't know if she'd ever have the energy to try to make it right again.
Wiping a tear from her eye with the sleeve of the cardigan she wore over a plain black dress, Gracie bit her lip, resisting the urge to cry a little harder, as she saw a just as distraught Molly standing in front of her. Without words, Molly sat down next to Gracie and they hugged, crying and comforting each other.
"This isn't right," Molly said tearfully as she pulled back from Gracie and they both began drying at their eyes. She sighed as they sat back in their seats. "I have to fly out tonight after the funeral," she said softly.
"At least they gave you three extra days," Gracie replied with a sniffle. "But I wish you could stay," she added gripping her best friends hand.
"Me too," Molly replied with a sad smile. For a long moment they were quiet. The only sound escaping either of their lips being sighs or whimpers. Gracie couldn't remembered the last time she'd cried this much. "He told me right before he told you," Molly spoke suddenly.
Gracie looked up at her with wide eyes.
"Jed..." Molly sighed. "He thought that we were all together," Molly continued. "But I was coming downstairs and I found him standing in the doorway, just listening. When I realized who he was listening to, I cleared my throat to gain his attention and we sat on the steps in the foyer and just talked..." Molly paused as tears again filled her eyes. "I didn't believe him. I mean I did but it didn't sink in. At least not right away. He went outside, I went back into the den with everyone else. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes passed and I came outside to join you guys, thinking you'd all be sitting there smoking a cigarette. His words never even processed in my mind. You guys weren't out front so I went out back and there was Charlie. He was all alone, I don't think anyone even noticed that he wasn't in the den and he looked so... sad. That's when it hit me."
"Huck knew," Gracie spoke just above a whisper. She looked up to find Molly staring at her, eyes wide in shock. "I mean... he had an idea. My dad knew, and Josh..." she laughed bitterly. "Everyone but us."
"Don't be mad Gracie."
"I'm not, I'm just..." Gracie raked her hands through her hair. "Frustrated."
"I know," Molly said placing a comforting hand on Gracie's back. "We all are."
"I just..." Gracie let the tears fall finally, freely. "This wasn't supposed to happen. It's too soon. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye!" she choked out.
Molly nodded before wrapping her arms around Gracie once again. They stayed like that for a long time. Again crying and comforting each other the best they could. At that point, it was all either of them knew how to do. With Molly's help Gracie had managed to still herself a little as they started a decent towards land.
***
The widow's parade, Molly had called it, before they gathered with the others in front of the farm, awaiting their individual modes of transport. They were a sad somber bunch, all dressed in black, none of the women wore anything but waterproof makeup, if any, and sobs were heard more than words.
Sam paced, his hand nervously sliding in and out of his right breast pocket, fingering his speech, the eulogy, he had agreed to out of sense of duty. Abbey had insisted that pallbearer would be enough, that even though she'd asked Sam to speak in a moment of weakness he didn't have to comply, but Sam knew better than to refuse. He'd told himself that he owed this to Jed as he called Toby to help him craft the right words for their fair friend, one last time.
Mallory watched Sam, fidgeting with her hands as she studied his every movement. Even though he told her that he wasn't nervous she knew he was. Despite what anyone had said about Sam in the past, or would say about him in the future, to all of those who mattered, this was the biggest speech of Sam's life. She wanted to cry, but was all out of tears. She's loved Jed like a father since the first time she had stepped foot in his house for dinner, her family and his. The Bartlet girls were close friends and Abbey was there for her even when Mallory's own mother had practically disowned her for supposedly taking her fathers side. Jed's death was hurting her more than she would ever let on.
Leo held a shaking Abbey. She hadn't slept or stopped crying for more then ten minutes at a time since very early Monday morning. Even Leo, who'd known Jed and Abbey since, as he liked to say, the beginning of time, thought that she'd take his passing a little better. But as Leo had learned early in his political life, people were so very unpredictable.
Liz and Ellie cried together, sitting on the porch steps, along with their respective husbands and children. They'd been staying at the farm, looking after things, as well as their mother, since Monday afternoon. Although they hurt, they knew it was coming; their father had always been upfront with them when it came to his illness and they knew that he was now in a better place. If only they could convince Abbey of that.
Charlie and Zoey stood off to the side, nearly out of sight, talking in hushed tones. They were both immensely sad, an observation that could have been made by any random stranger, but neither cried. They carried their sorrow in silence, keeping their distance from everyone around them. Charlie knew, and could probably speak on Zoey's behalf, that the minute they walked into the church they'd probably lose all composure, but keeping up a strong front was the ploy for the moment.
Josh held Donna's hand as he spoke to Ryan, softly, catching up on some last minute business that had just been faxed over from the wires. Josh raked his hand through his hair when Ryan finally turned away willing to give anything, to not have to talk politics for just one day. Josh was shaken, but not apparently so. He'd kept his emotions in check, shedding tears only at night, in front of Donna, as they lie awake unable to find the sleep that both so desperately desired. Donna on the other hand cried as if she'd been saving tears for a lifetime. It only reminded her of the death of both of her parents in the last year.
Toby sat on the porch swing, next to CJ, smoking a cigar. CJ focused her time on watching him blow smoke circles past her. Neither of them spoke, neither of them moved much, only when necessary, but their hands remained linked together, next to each other, resting on the soft wood of the bench.
Gracie looked around at the crowd of people, her White House family, past Presidents, and many, many others, who were gathered around awaiting their cars for the procession. Uncontrollable tears escaped her eyes, slowly sliding down her cheeks, dampening her neckline, but she didn't care. The only thing she could feel was Huck's strong arm around her waist and Molly's soft hand in her's. The three of them had become inseparable after exiting Air Force One and there was no place she'd rather be.
The first car was for Abbey. Leo, the faithful best friend rode with her, along with Charlie and Zoey, the Bartlet legacy's first official couple. The second carried Liz, Ellie and their families; slightly larger than the first it was the same omniscient black limousine Gracie had remembered traveling in to get there just a week ago for Leo's birthday celebration. It felt like a million years has passed since. The next car carried Sam, Mallory, Josh, Donna, and Will. Gracie refusing to separate herself from her two best friends rode in the seventh car of the procession with CJ, Toby, Ryan, Huck and Molly. The three cars between the President and his daughter carried former Presidents Hoynes, Quincey, and Gillett, along with their respective families. They were the last living in a long line of remarkable men.
Gracie watched the countryside fly past in blurs of green and then gray as they neared the cathedral. With the proper security clearance they were escorted out of their vehicles and slowly filed into the church. Gracie recognized the music playing in the background, as they entered and were walked to their spots in the pews right behind Jed's family, almost immediately. She had heard it a million times before, it was Bach, suite number one, most famously performed by Yo-Yo Ma, a favorite classical artist of hers, whom Jed had first introduced her to many years ago.
The service started like any other and it wasn't until Annie, Liz's oldest stood for the first reading, that Gracie took any notice. Annie was tall, with long dark hair, just like her mother and her grandmothers. She lived in Florida with her husband Mark and their daughter Emily, where she practiced law, and visited her grandparents home in Manchester for at least one week every summer. Of all the grandkids and great grandkids, Annie seemed to be taking Jed's passing the hardest.
Annie dried her eyes quickly; on the white handkerchief she had been carrying, opened the folder holding her reading, and took a deep breath before speaking.
"When we were choosing the proper readings for this service," she paused, clearing her throat. "The urge to be nontraditional kept echoing in our minds and so we decided to forgo so called tradition and speak with words that really touched our hearts. We know Grandpa would have wanted a real Catholic service but nothing seemed to fit what we wanted to say and so I searched high and wide for things that made more sense," she took a deep breath. "Long ago, I read this little parable and it stuck with me, so I'd like to share it with you," she looked up at the crowd and swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Keep 'em on their toes... that's what Grandpa would have wanted," she smiled sadly, looked heavenward and began. "Doctor Benjamin Elijah Mays said, 'it must be borne in mind that the tragedy of life doesn't lie in not reaching your goal. The tragedy lies in having no goal to reach. It is not a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream. It is not a disaster to be unable to capture your ideal, but it is a disaster to not have an ideal to capture. It is not a disgrace not to reach the stars, but it is a disgrace not to have stars to reach for. Not failure, but low aim is a sin,'" Annie paused as a wave of emotion swept over her. She felt tears stinging her eyes as she shuffled the papers in front of her. "Amen," she spoke softly and an Amen echoed back to her as the congregation agreed. She stepped away from the podium and returned, with a new understand of the importance of her Grandfathers life becoming more and more relevant with each movement.
The next part of the mass involving audience participation was the reading of the Psalm. Traditionally, after each part of the psalm there was a response, as it was the responsorial psalm, but, continuing to forgo tradition, Charlie stood at the podium, composure still in tact and began to read Psalm One Hundred and Twenty One.
"I to the hills will lift mine eyes, from whence doth come mine aid," Charlie paused, momentarily lost; as he remembered the last time he spoke in church. It was the funeral of the late Delores Landingham. "My safety cometh from the Lord, who heav'n and earth hath made," he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of pain that began to encompass his body. When he opened them to continue he was visibly shaking. "Thy foot he'll not let slide, nor will he slumber that thee keeps. Behold, he that keeps Israel, he slumbers not, nor sleeps," Charlie tried to calm his cracking voice but it was no use. "The Lord thee keeps, the Lord thy shade on thy right hand doth stay: the moon by night thee shall not smite, nor yet the sun by day," hours, maybe even days of unshed tears began to fall as Charlie finished, with the last verse. He looked to Zoey and found that she was crying too. "The Lord shall keep thy soul; he shall preserve thee from all ill. Henceforth thy going out and in God keep for ever will," Charlie nodded to the crowd before him and exited his post just as Donna stepped up for the second reading.
She didn't even try to hide the fact that she had been, and still was crying. Unable to turn the waterworks off since the first time she spotted Josh with tears in his eyes Donna searched the podium for her reading and when she found it, cleared her throat and with a weak voice began.
"I will be reading two separate pieces as a second reading," Donna began with determination. "The first is anonymous and was picked by Christopher Sawyer, son of Eleanor Bartlet-Sawyer, Grandson to the late Jed Bartlet," she paused and smiled sadly, trying to control the tears streaming down her face long enough to be able to see the words before her. "You can shed tears that he is gone, or you can smile because he lived. You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back, or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left. Your heart can be empty because you can't see him or you can be full of the love that you shared. You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday. You can remember him and only that he is gone, or you can cherish his memory and let it live on. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back, or you can do what he would want: smile," Donna paused doing so. "Open your eyes," she paused another moment, taking a good look at the crowd. "Love," she gazed lovingly at Josh then let her eyes wander over Sam, Mallory, Gracie, Huck, Molly, Toby, CJ, Charlie, Zoey, Ryan, Abbey, Liz, her family, Ellie and hers, "And go on," she finished and then cleared her throat again as the tears began to subside and she found an inner peace. "The second reading is from the book of Revelation, Chapter twenty one," she gazed intently at the paper. "And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. And he that sat upon the throne said, behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, write: for these words are true and faithful," Donna made the sign of the cross and kissed her hand softly as she touched the paper. "This is the word of the Lord."
"Thanks be to God," the congregation recited. Donna stepped down and they continued on with the mass. After communion was finished all eyes were on Gracie as she stood at the front of the church, eyes closed, microphone in hand. Not until the music started did she open her eyes, getting a feel for the songs tempo, she began to sing.
"Imagine there's no heaven," her soft voice carried with the help of the microphone. "It's easy if you try. No hell below us, above us only sky. Imagine all the people, living for today..." Gracie closed her eyes and began to sway. "Imagine there's no countries, it isn't hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too. Imagine all the people, living life in peace..." she opened them. "You... you may say that I am a dreamer. But I'm not the only one. I hope someday you will join us, and the world will be as one," Gracie felt her eyes well with tears as the music enveloped her. She cried through the words. "Imagine no possessions, I wonder if you can. No need for greed or hunger, a brotherhood of man. Imagine all the people, sharing all the world... you..." tears fell down her face as she noticed, everyone around her was crying too. "You may say that I'm a dreamer. But I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world..." she finished slowly. "Will live as one."
Gracie hadn't expected it but the church applauded, tastefully and she nodded her head slightly in recognition as she noticed her father walking gingerly towards the podium. They were both crying and the minute he was close enough to touch her, he pulled her protectively into his arms, afraid he'd never be able to let go. Everyone became suddenly silent, amplifying the sounds of tears, sniffles, and sobs.
Pulling in a ragged breath, Sam pulled away and kissed Gracie softly on the forehead, before continuing on. When he reached his spot he pulled the speech out of his pocket and smoothed it on the hard oak surface.
As a single tear escaped his eye, his vision blurred and the words he'd crafted for hours the night before swam on the page. He folded the neat yellow paper back up, stuffed it back into his pocket, knowing Toby was going to crucify him later, and began on his own.
"All my life, I've been a man of many words," Sam paused, looking for a focus, infinitely grateful for his wife Mallory, who, after hearing his fuss with the speech, was smiling at him proudly through her tears. "Some days it's worked to my advantage, while others," Sam shook his head and laughed ruefully. "Not so much. For the past twenty-four hours I've been trying to find the right words to convey the loss that the public feels when an American legend is taken from them. What it feels like to be stripped of the mere presence of a man who touched lives with his constant strive to make a difference," Sam paused for a moment gathering his thoughts. "But Jed Bartlet was not merely a legend, but a hero. A great man to be remembered for great things. He once asked the public, his public, to believe that if fidelity to freedom and democracy is the code of our civic religion then surely, the code of our humanity is faithful service to that unwritten commandment that says we shall give our children better than we ourselves had," Sam looked to Gracie as he continued speaking. "Not only did the public accept it, but they began to embrace it as the Bartlet Administration passed bill after bill through congress. The Tuition Initiative Program, The Students Bill of Rights, The Early Education Act, just to name a few, were the shining moments of those words spoken by an unknown Senator, who with a handful of people who knew he was the real thing made himself a President. If each President is remembered for something, a legacy so to speak, then surely the legacy that Jed Bartlet left behind after eight glorious years in office, was that the bar had been raised for the integrity of our children and the future of America," Sam spoke with ease, imagining he was talking to close friends, and not the hundreds of people who filled the cathedral, or the millions watching the live broadcast, god love the American press. "It's hard enough to celebrate those kinds of accomplishments in a man while he lives and even more impossible to imagine the difficulty in trying to celebrate them in his passing. I do not speak of this difficulty as though I were sharing a set of thoughts from one President to another, or even Senior Aide to Commander in Chief, hoping to make a small impression on a country grieving a lifetime. I speak of this difficulty as a friend, as I was to Jed Bartlet, hoping to have left a small impression in the heart of a man, after his death.
"It's hard enough trying to find the right words to describe the pain in the passing of an ordinary man, imagine the difficulty, as I'm sure you all do, in trying to find the words to describe the pain in losing an extraordinary friend," Sam smiled sadly at his own friends and then laughed. "Those last two sentences... a whole bunch of word that mean the same thing," he paused as he heard a few chuckles. "CJ Cregg once said to me, on a particularly..." Sam paused looking for the right word. "Odd, night in the West Wing when I worked as the Deputy Communications Director, that if politics brings out the worst in people, then maybe people bring out the best. Then, that night, I know for a fact she wasn't talking about Jed, President Bartlet," Sam looked to CJ, shaking her head and smiling. "But as I look out at this crowd, I think you will all agree when I say that I'd be lying if I tried to make you believe that that statement didn't have Jed Bartlet written all over it.
"Many words describe a President. A few that come to mind when I think of Bartlet are Affectionate, Aggressive, Ambitious, Argumentative, Confident, Elitist, Patriotic, Geeky," Sam smiled. "Passionate, Tender, Loving... Wise," Sam paused. "The list goes on. In a lifetime we are lucky to meet one person owning more then three of these attributes, but Bartlet had them all. They say that no man is indispensable, but some are irreplaceable. Jed Bartlet is irreplaceable. While I am lucky enough to be following in my hero's footsteps, after words of encouragement over a late night game of chess, I know that no matter how hard I try I will never fill Jed Bartlet's shoes. And I don't want to. I never thought I'd end up here, I never thought I'd be standing where I am today. But sometimes our actions surpass all ideal and we are brought to realize that America really is a terribly difficult idea filled with promise and impossible to live up to, which makes us want to strive for more. Bartlet brought out the best in us. He led, he governed, he loved, he learned, he taught, and he shared. He said, the streets of heaven are too crowded with angels, but every time we think we have measured our capacity to meet a challenge, we look up and we are reminded that the capacity may well be limitless. Because of Jed Bartlet, never again will I limit my capacity, instead I look up to the heavens and with outstretched hands I ask, what's next?"
Post Chapter Note: The song Gracie sang, "Imagine" is by John Lennon and can be found on his album, "Imagine." And... I dunno it just felt right. Everything else, I made sure to site and um Sam's eulogy, while I borrowed from Sorkin's words here and there, is all mine. Oh yeah, one more thing... the quote from CJ, because I'm a freak. She actually never said that to Sam, she wrote it in an e-mail to her father the night of the Stackhouse Filibuster and is actually from the very ending of the episode "The Stackhouse Filibuster"
Chapter Twenty One – The Grace Is Gone
If she could have located her ability to feel any sort of emotion, Gracie would have felt relief as she staggered into the empty back corner of Air Force One. Instead, she felt dull, her mind clouded over, as she took a seat and tucked her knees up to her chest, thankful to be the only one in the vicinity.
Hours, days even, had melted together since Sunday. If someone would have told her Saturday night that she would feel this horrible three days later, she never would have believed them, regardless of the circumstances. It was Wednesday now, and she was on Air Force One with the old Bartlet Administration on their way to Manchester New Hampshire for the funeral of former President Josiah Bartlet.
The last clear memory Gracie had was the sight of Zoey and Charlie leaving the bar. Everything else was just words without pictures. Donna speaking softly... "Jed's gone." Her father's voice distant in the background asking "When?" and then finally Ryan, clear as day, "Just now."
It was a shock. He had been sick. He had even told her that he was going to die she just didn't think a week after he'd broken the news that she'd never have the chance to properly say goodbye. It hurt like nothing she could remember. The last person to die who she was even remotely close to was Andrea Wyatt, Huck and Molly's mom. But Gracie was only ten at the time and never really felt the loss for herself, more as an extension of her feelings for Molly and Huck.
Gracie had gone in a few short days from not sleeping at all to sleeping too much. She remembered trying to talk with Evan as he sat with her the night before, telling her that she should go to Manchester without him, even though he had been invited and how she fell asleep practically mid sentence. If she could, she would have laughed, thinking about the damage that falling asleep on him must have done to his ego, but she couldn't bring herself to care. For some reason Jed's death had put a crack right in the middle of the road called their relationship and she didn't know if she'd ever have the energy to try to make it right again.
Wiping a tear from her eye with the sleeve of the cardigan she wore over a plain black dress, Gracie bit her lip, resisting the urge to cry a little harder, as she saw a just as distraught Molly standing in front of her. Without words, Molly sat down next to Gracie and they hugged, crying and comforting each other.
"This isn't right," Molly said tearfully as she pulled back from Gracie and they both began drying at their eyes. She sighed as they sat back in their seats. "I have to fly out tonight after the funeral," she said softly.
"At least they gave you three extra days," Gracie replied with a sniffle. "But I wish you could stay," she added gripping her best friends hand.
"Me too," Molly replied with a sad smile. For a long moment they were quiet. The only sound escaping either of their lips being sighs or whimpers. Gracie couldn't remembered the last time she'd cried this much. "He told me right before he told you," Molly spoke suddenly.
Gracie looked up at her with wide eyes.
"Jed..." Molly sighed. "He thought that we were all together," Molly continued. "But I was coming downstairs and I found him standing in the doorway, just listening. When I realized who he was listening to, I cleared my throat to gain his attention and we sat on the steps in the foyer and just talked..." Molly paused as tears again filled her eyes. "I didn't believe him. I mean I did but it didn't sink in. At least not right away. He went outside, I went back into the den with everyone else. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes passed and I came outside to join you guys, thinking you'd all be sitting there smoking a cigarette. His words never even processed in my mind. You guys weren't out front so I went out back and there was Charlie. He was all alone, I don't think anyone even noticed that he wasn't in the den and he looked so... sad. That's when it hit me."
"Huck knew," Gracie spoke just above a whisper. She looked up to find Molly staring at her, eyes wide in shock. "I mean... he had an idea. My dad knew, and Josh..." she laughed bitterly. "Everyone but us."
"Don't be mad Gracie."
"I'm not, I'm just..." Gracie raked her hands through her hair. "Frustrated."
"I know," Molly said placing a comforting hand on Gracie's back. "We all are."
"I just..." Gracie let the tears fall finally, freely. "This wasn't supposed to happen. It's too soon. I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye!" she choked out.
Molly nodded before wrapping her arms around Gracie once again. They stayed like that for a long time. Again crying and comforting each other the best they could. At that point, it was all either of them knew how to do. With Molly's help Gracie had managed to still herself a little as they started a decent towards land.
***
The widow's parade, Molly had called it, before they gathered with the others in front of the farm, awaiting their individual modes of transport. They were a sad somber bunch, all dressed in black, none of the women wore anything but waterproof makeup, if any, and sobs were heard more than words.
Sam paced, his hand nervously sliding in and out of his right breast pocket, fingering his speech, the eulogy, he had agreed to out of sense of duty. Abbey had insisted that pallbearer would be enough, that even though she'd asked Sam to speak in a moment of weakness he didn't have to comply, but Sam knew better than to refuse. He'd told himself that he owed this to Jed as he called Toby to help him craft the right words for their fair friend, one last time.
Mallory watched Sam, fidgeting with her hands as she studied his every movement. Even though he told her that he wasn't nervous she knew he was. Despite what anyone had said about Sam in the past, or would say about him in the future, to all of those who mattered, this was the biggest speech of Sam's life. She wanted to cry, but was all out of tears. She's loved Jed like a father since the first time she had stepped foot in his house for dinner, her family and his. The Bartlet girls were close friends and Abbey was there for her even when Mallory's own mother had practically disowned her for supposedly taking her fathers side. Jed's death was hurting her more than she would ever let on.
Leo held a shaking Abbey. She hadn't slept or stopped crying for more then ten minutes at a time since very early Monday morning. Even Leo, who'd known Jed and Abbey since, as he liked to say, the beginning of time, thought that she'd take his passing a little better. But as Leo had learned early in his political life, people were so very unpredictable.
Liz and Ellie cried together, sitting on the porch steps, along with their respective husbands and children. They'd been staying at the farm, looking after things, as well as their mother, since Monday afternoon. Although they hurt, they knew it was coming; their father had always been upfront with them when it came to his illness and they knew that he was now in a better place. If only they could convince Abbey of that.
Charlie and Zoey stood off to the side, nearly out of sight, talking in hushed tones. They were both immensely sad, an observation that could have been made by any random stranger, but neither cried. They carried their sorrow in silence, keeping their distance from everyone around them. Charlie knew, and could probably speak on Zoey's behalf, that the minute they walked into the church they'd probably lose all composure, but keeping up a strong front was the ploy for the moment.
Josh held Donna's hand as he spoke to Ryan, softly, catching up on some last minute business that had just been faxed over from the wires. Josh raked his hand through his hair when Ryan finally turned away willing to give anything, to not have to talk politics for just one day. Josh was shaken, but not apparently so. He'd kept his emotions in check, shedding tears only at night, in front of Donna, as they lie awake unable to find the sleep that both so desperately desired. Donna on the other hand cried as if she'd been saving tears for a lifetime. It only reminded her of the death of both of her parents in the last year.
Toby sat on the porch swing, next to CJ, smoking a cigar. CJ focused her time on watching him blow smoke circles past her. Neither of them spoke, neither of them moved much, only when necessary, but their hands remained linked together, next to each other, resting on the soft wood of the bench.
Gracie looked around at the crowd of people, her White House family, past Presidents, and many, many others, who were gathered around awaiting their cars for the procession. Uncontrollable tears escaped her eyes, slowly sliding down her cheeks, dampening her neckline, but she didn't care. The only thing she could feel was Huck's strong arm around her waist and Molly's soft hand in her's. The three of them had become inseparable after exiting Air Force One and there was no place she'd rather be.
The first car was for Abbey. Leo, the faithful best friend rode with her, along with Charlie and Zoey, the Bartlet legacy's first official couple. The second carried Liz, Ellie and their families; slightly larger than the first it was the same omniscient black limousine Gracie had remembered traveling in to get there just a week ago for Leo's birthday celebration. It felt like a million years has passed since. The next car carried Sam, Mallory, Josh, Donna, and Will. Gracie refusing to separate herself from her two best friends rode in the seventh car of the procession with CJ, Toby, Ryan, Huck and Molly. The three cars between the President and his daughter carried former Presidents Hoynes, Quincey, and Gillett, along with their respective families. They were the last living in a long line of remarkable men.
Gracie watched the countryside fly past in blurs of green and then gray as they neared the cathedral. With the proper security clearance they were escorted out of their vehicles and slowly filed into the church. Gracie recognized the music playing in the background, as they entered and were walked to their spots in the pews right behind Jed's family, almost immediately. She had heard it a million times before, it was Bach, suite number one, most famously performed by Yo-Yo Ma, a favorite classical artist of hers, whom Jed had first introduced her to many years ago.
The service started like any other and it wasn't until Annie, Liz's oldest stood for the first reading, that Gracie took any notice. Annie was tall, with long dark hair, just like her mother and her grandmothers. She lived in Florida with her husband Mark and their daughter Emily, where she practiced law, and visited her grandparents home in Manchester for at least one week every summer. Of all the grandkids and great grandkids, Annie seemed to be taking Jed's passing the hardest.
Annie dried her eyes quickly; on the white handkerchief she had been carrying, opened the folder holding her reading, and took a deep breath before speaking.
"When we were choosing the proper readings for this service," she paused, clearing her throat. "The urge to be nontraditional kept echoing in our minds and so we decided to forgo so called tradition and speak with words that really touched our hearts. We know Grandpa would have wanted a real Catholic service but nothing seemed to fit what we wanted to say and so I searched high and wide for things that made more sense," she took a deep breath. "Long ago, I read this little parable and it stuck with me, so I'd like to share it with you," she looked up at the crowd and swallowed down the lump in her throat. "Keep 'em on their toes... that's what Grandpa would have wanted," she smiled sadly, looked heavenward and began. "Doctor Benjamin Elijah Mays said, 'it must be borne in mind that the tragedy of life doesn't lie in not reaching your goal. The tragedy lies in having no goal to reach. It is not a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream. It is not a disaster to be unable to capture your ideal, but it is a disaster to not have an ideal to capture. It is not a disgrace not to reach the stars, but it is a disgrace not to have stars to reach for. Not failure, but low aim is a sin,'" Annie paused as a wave of emotion swept over her. She felt tears stinging her eyes as she shuffled the papers in front of her. "Amen," she spoke softly and an Amen echoed back to her as the congregation agreed. She stepped away from the podium and returned, with a new understand of the importance of her Grandfathers life becoming more and more relevant with each movement.
The next part of the mass involving audience participation was the reading of the Psalm. Traditionally, after each part of the psalm there was a response, as it was the responsorial psalm, but, continuing to forgo tradition, Charlie stood at the podium, composure still in tact and began to read Psalm One Hundred and Twenty One.
"I to the hills will lift mine eyes, from whence doth come mine aid," Charlie paused, momentarily lost; as he remembered the last time he spoke in church. It was the funeral of the late Delores Landingham. "My safety cometh from the Lord, who heav'n and earth hath made," he closed his eyes for a moment, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of pain that began to encompass his body. When he opened them to continue he was visibly shaking. "Thy foot he'll not let slide, nor will he slumber that thee keeps. Behold, he that keeps Israel, he slumbers not, nor sleeps," Charlie tried to calm his cracking voice but it was no use. "The Lord thee keeps, the Lord thy shade on thy right hand doth stay: the moon by night thee shall not smite, nor yet the sun by day," hours, maybe even days of unshed tears began to fall as Charlie finished, with the last verse. He looked to Zoey and found that she was crying too. "The Lord shall keep thy soul; he shall preserve thee from all ill. Henceforth thy going out and in God keep for ever will," Charlie nodded to the crowd before him and exited his post just as Donna stepped up for the second reading.
She didn't even try to hide the fact that she had been, and still was crying. Unable to turn the waterworks off since the first time she spotted Josh with tears in his eyes Donna searched the podium for her reading and when she found it, cleared her throat and with a weak voice began.
"I will be reading two separate pieces as a second reading," Donna began with determination. "The first is anonymous and was picked by Christopher Sawyer, son of Eleanor Bartlet-Sawyer, Grandson to the late Jed Bartlet," she paused and smiled sadly, trying to control the tears streaming down her face long enough to be able to see the words before her. "You can shed tears that he is gone, or you can smile because he lived. You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back, or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left. Your heart can be empty because you can't see him or you can be full of the love that you shared. You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday. You can remember him and only that he is gone, or you can cherish his memory and let it live on. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back, or you can do what he would want: smile," Donna paused doing so. "Open your eyes," she paused another moment, taking a good look at the crowd. "Love," she gazed lovingly at Josh then let her eyes wander over Sam, Mallory, Gracie, Huck, Molly, Toby, CJ, Charlie, Zoey, Ryan, Abbey, Liz, her family, Ellie and hers, "And go on," she finished and then cleared her throat again as the tears began to subside and she found an inner peace. "The second reading is from the book of Revelation, Chapter twenty one," she gazed intently at the paper. "And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. And he that sat upon the throne said, behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, write: for these words are true and faithful," Donna made the sign of the cross and kissed her hand softly as she touched the paper. "This is the word of the Lord."
"Thanks be to God," the congregation recited. Donna stepped down and they continued on with the mass. After communion was finished all eyes were on Gracie as she stood at the front of the church, eyes closed, microphone in hand. Not until the music started did she open her eyes, getting a feel for the songs tempo, she began to sing.
"Imagine there's no heaven," her soft voice carried with the help of the microphone. "It's easy if you try. No hell below us, above us only sky. Imagine all the people, living for today..." Gracie closed her eyes and began to sway. "Imagine there's no countries, it isn't hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too. Imagine all the people, living life in peace..." she opened them. "You... you may say that I am a dreamer. But I'm not the only one. I hope someday you will join us, and the world will be as one," Gracie felt her eyes well with tears as the music enveloped her. She cried through the words. "Imagine no possessions, I wonder if you can. No need for greed or hunger, a brotherhood of man. Imagine all the people, sharing all the world... you..." tears fell down her face as she noticed, everyone around her was crying too. "You may say that I'm a dreamer. But I'm not the only one. I hope someday you'll join us, and the world..." she finished slowly. "Will live as one."
Gracie hadn't expected it but the church applauded, tastefully and she nodded her head slightly in recognition as she noticed her father walking gingerly towards the podium. They were both crying and the minute he was close enough to touch her, he pulled her protectively into his arms, afraid he'd never be able to let go. Everyone became suddenly silent, amplifying the sounds of tears, sniffles, and sobs.
Pulling in a ragged breath, Sam pulled away and kissed Gracie softly on the forehead, before continuing on. When he reached his spot he pulled the speech out of his pocket and smoothed it on the hard oak surface.
As a single tear escaped his eye, his vision blurred and the words he'd crafted for hours the night before swam on the page. He folded the neat yellow paper back up, stuffed it back into his pocket, knowing Toby was going to crucify him later, and began on his own.
"All my life, I've been a man of many words," Sam paused, looking for a focus, infinitely grateful for his wife Mallory, who, after hearing his fuss with the speech, was smiling at him proudly through her tears. "Some days it's worked to my advantage, while others," Sam shook his head and laughed ruefully. "Not so much. For the past twenty-four hours I've been trying to find the right words to convey the loss that the public feels when an American legend is taken from them. What it feels like to be stripped of the mere presence of a man who touched lives with his constant strive to make a difference," Sam paused for a moment gathering his thoughts. "But Jed Bartlet was not merely a legend, but a hero. A great man to be remembered for great things. He once asked the public, his public, to believe that if fidelity to freedom and democracy is the code of our civic religion then surely, the code of our humanity is faithful service to that unwritten commandment that says we shall give our children better than we ourselves had," Sam looked to Gracie as he continued speaking. "Not only did the public accept it, but they began to embrace it as the Bartlet Administration passed bill after bill through congress. The Tuition Initiative Program, The Students Bill of Rights, The Early Education Act, just to name a few, were the shining moments of those words spoken by an unknown Senator, who with a handful of people who knew he was the real thing made himself a President. If each President is remembered for something, a legacy so to speak, then surely the legacy that Jed Bartlet left behind after eight glorious years in office, was that the bar had been raised for the integrity of our children and the future of America," Sam spoke with ease, imagining he was talking to close friends, and not the hundreds of people who filled the cathedral, or the millions watching the live broadcast, god love the American press. "It's hard enough to celebrate those kinds of accomplishments in a man while he lives and even more impossible to imagine the difficulty in trying to celebrate them in his passing. I do not speak of this difficulty as though I were sharing a set of thoughts from one President to another, or even Senior Aide to Commander in Chief, hoping to make a small impression on a country grieving a lifetime. I speak of this difficulty as a friend, as I was to Jed Bartlet, hoping to have left a small impression in the heart of a man, after his death.
"It's hard enough trying to find the right words to describe the pain in the passing of an ordinary man, imagine the difficulty, as I'm sure you all do, in trying to find the words to describe the pain in losing an extraordinary friend," Sam smiled sadly at his own friends and then laughed. "Those last two sentences... a whole bunch of word that mean the same thing," he paused as he heard a few chuckles. "CJ Cregg once said to me, on a particularly..." Sam paused looking for the right word. "Odd, night in the West Wing when I worked as the Deputy Communications Director, that if politics brings out the worst in people, then maybe people bring out the best. Then, that night, I know for a fact she wasn't talking about Jed, President Bartlet," Sam looked to CJ, shaking her head and smiling. "But as I look out at this crowd, I think you will all agree when I say that I'd be lying if I tried to make you believe that that statement didn't have Jed Bartlet written all over it.
"Many words describe a President. A few that come to mind when I think of Bartlet are Affectionate, Aggressive, Ambitious, Argumentative, Confident, Elitist, Patriotic, Geeky," Sam smiled. "Passionate, Tender, Loving... Wise," Sam paused. "The list goes on. In a lifetime we are lucky to meet one person owning more then three of these attributes, but Bartlet had them all. They say that no man is indispensable, but some are irreplaceable. Jed Bartlet is irreplaceable. While I am lucky enough to be following in my hero's footsteps, after words of encouragement over a late night game of chess, I know that no matter how hard I try I will never fill Jed Bartlet's shoes. And I don't want to. I never thought I'd end up here, I never thought I'd be standing where I am today. But sometimes our actions surpass all ideal and we are brought to realize that America really is a terribly difficult idea filled with promise and impossible to live up to, which makes us want to strive for more. Bartlet brought out the best in us. He led, he governed, he loved, he learned, he taught, and he shared. He said, the streets of heaven are too crowded with angels, but every time we think we have measured our capacity to meet a challenge, we look up and we are reminded that the capacity may well be limitless. Because of Jed Bartlet, never again will I limit my capacity, instead I look up to the heavens and with outstretched hands I ask, what's next?"
Post Chapter Note: The song Gracie sang, "Imagine" is by John Lennon and can be found on his album, "Imagine." And... I dunno it just felt right. Everything else, I made sure to site and um Sam's eulogy, while I borrowed from Sorkin's words here and there, is all mine. Oh yeah, one more thing... the quote from CJ, because I'm a freak. She actually never said that to Sam, she wrote it in an e-mail to her father the night of the Stackhouse Filibuster and is actually from the very ending of the episode "The Stackhouse Filibuster"