The Passing of John Adams

The Passing of John Adams

By Mike Clark

The old man lay quietly on his bed. It was late in the afternoon, but since it was July it was still light outside. He had thought he heard cannon fire, and said so, but his son had reassured him that it was only thunder. Yes, that was right: he could now hear the rain. “It won’t be long now,” he thought to himself. “Ninety years is a very good course.” His thoughts were flowing slowly now, but he was pleased to see that he was still in his right mind. He had tried to talk more, but his voice wasn’t quite up to it. And those few words he had tried to utter, such as they were, were hard to understand. “No matter,” he thought. “I’ve said and written a great deal throughout my life, and surely I’ve no further need to speak.” As he lay there he felt feverish in the heat and mugginess of the day, and considered what might happen to him now. He was exhausted, and the thought that he might now rest from his labors gave him peace. At first light he had woken from sleep, and upon seeing his son sitting next to his bed had asked him what day it was. The answer pleased him. It was the Fourth of July! He had made it! Fifty years! And now it was in the hands of others. He hoped they would preserve his work, and improve upon it, but soon it would be well and truly out of his hands. He would have chuckled if he had the strength, but he was nearly done. Suddenly he recalled that he wasn’t the only one who had vowed to live until this day. His old friend Thomas was in it with him. They had promised each other to do their best to live to see the fiftieth anniversary of that fateful day when they had finally approved the wording to the Declaration. He, John Adams, had thought that it was the anniversary of the decision to declare Independence that would be remembered, the Second of July. But it was the date they approved the final text of the Declaration that was now remembered and celebrated as the birth of their nation. Yes, and Jefferson had complained that the Congress had mangled it, cutting out some of his best words. “It was for the best,” he had consoled his friend at the time, and over time Jefferson had come to see it. He was inordinately proud of the Declaration now. Not mangled after all. A slight smile crept to his lips, and quickly vanished. It was time! Was there anything left to say? Yes. One last thing. He had finished his work, except for one last thing. He looked at youngest son and, raising his head slightly from the pillow, struggled to get it out. “Thomas… Thomas Jefferson survives!” He let his head fall back down, his strength now truly spent. His sight faded, and as the light failed he heard the softly indrawn breath of his son, as if in the distance. Then it was done. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Suddenly a light appeared before him, and it felt to him as if he were moving towards it, as if drawn to it. What was this? Where was this? Gradually, the light opened up until he was surrounded by it and he began to perceive a personage before him. And a voice speaking to him. Curiously, there was not a sound, but he heard it nonetheless. “Welcome, John!” The personage said with a gentle smile. “Thankyou, sir!” He responded politely. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name,” he apologized. “You know me, but that’s not important right now,” he said – yes, it was a male personage. “And you know where you are, do you not?” The man gestured, and John saw a number of people, all dressed in clothing of various styles, but all of white. They were all looking at him intently, expectantly. And they were all familiar! “Abigail, my wife!” He called out. It was she! Upon hearing him call out, she approached, smiling brightly. They embraced, and the love that they had once known seemed to enclose them in joy. “Eight years, John! It’s good to see you again!” Abigail said. “And here’s someone else to greet you!” She gestured and another approached. “It’s Nabby!” He cried as he embraced his daughter, Abigail, who had died five years before his wife. John then turned back to Abigail. “What of Elizabeth?” He asked, referring to their stillborn daughter. “Shouldn’t she be here, as well?” “No, John,” Abigail answered, shaking her head. “She had no further work to do, and has gone on. We may see her later, when we are done. “What is this work you speak of? I thought this was a place of rest,” he asked in some puzzlement. “You will see, in due course! But while it is a place of rest, it is merely of rest from earthly cares. There is much else to do,” she said. “Very well. But who are these others?” He asked, gesturing at the small circle of others. She smiled now broadly. “Your father and mother, along with a special guest!” At Abigail’s indication, John Sr. and Susanna Adams stepped forward to embrace their son and they exchanged a few words of endearment with him. Finally, they stepped aside and the third figure approached. John cried out in astonishment. “Thomas Jefferson! What are you doing here?” “Hello, John,” the other said wryly, and stepped forward to embrace his old friend. “I passed just a few hours before you did! And I have had my own reunions. I am here to greet you by special request,” he concluded. “Indeed,” said the personage, looking on them both, “You were both sent to Earth to accomplish certain purposes among the children of Men, and you have fulfilled them. Your passing upon the day of the Glorious 4th now stands as evidence of your divine callings, and I am instructed to tell you that you have done well, faithful servants! “Now, go to, there is much yet to do, and you will soon know what that is!” So saying, he was gone in an instant. After a brief interval, many others who had been waiting came closer to greet these architects of the United States.