America freezes in grief as Jimmy Carter's funeral closes a chapter

Washington, DC — The morning unfurled with a hushed solemnity. It is cold — the kind that seeps into your bones and makes you forget warmth ever existed.

The US capital cloaked in the grey-blue chill of January, seemed smaller, quieter — a city leaning into its grief.

At 9 am on Thursday, the motorcade assembled at the Capitol, ready to escort Jimmy Carter —former US president, Plains farmer, Navy officer, Nobel laureate, and a man of startling humility — on his final journey through the heart of the nation he served.

Carter's remains lay in repose at the Rotunda in the Capitol building, where thousands paid their last respects ahead of his state funeral.

On the streets of Washington, strangers gathered on pavements, scarves pulled high against the biting cold, clutching small flags that fluttered weakly in the still air.

They were not just bidding farewell to a president, they were mourning the vanishing of something intangible: a decency, a grace, an era that Carter embodied with quiet resolve.

The motorcade moved slowly down Constitution Avenue, the Capitol receding into the distance. Though still, the crowd seemed to ripple with unspoken emotion.

The 39th President of the United States (from 20 January 1977 to 20 January 1981) had walked softly through the corridors of power, leaving footprints you almost couldn’t see, but always felt.

As the motorcade neared the Washington National Cathedral, the city's landmarks stood quiet, like witnesses to a life that believed, even in its hardest moments, that America could do better, be better.

The Cathedral rose ahead, its Gothic spires clawing at the clear skies. Inside, it was heavy with reverence. Only presidents, past and present, high-ranking dignitaries, Congresspersons, and a chosen few crossed its threshold.

The faint rustle of winter coats, the shuffle of careful footfalls, and military marching steps — a rhythm that filled the vast space.

This was one of those rare moments when history met humanity head-on.

Five living American presidents: Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, Barack Obama, Donald Trump, and the incumbent Joe Biden sat shoulder-to-shoulder, a portrait of power, past and present, bearing the weight of the moment.

Yet, as I scrolled briefly through my feed, the cameras lingered on President-elect Trump in an animated chat with Obama, injecting a quaint suspense into the proceedings.

In a rare gesture of praise for a predecessor he had often criticised, Trump remarked days earlier, "We all owe him (Carter) a debt of gratitude," a statement that surprised many but seemed fitting in its simplicity.

President Biden rose to deliver the eulogy. He spoke not just of Carter’s accomplishments but of the man — someone who had lived simply, true to his principled values.

Biden, who will leave office in 11 days, hinted at politics in repeating several times that "character" was Carter's chief attribute. Biden said the former president taught him the imperative that "everyone should be treated with dignity and respect."

"We have an obligation to give hate no safe harbour," Biden said, also noting the importance of standing up to "abuse in power." Those comments echoed Biden's typical criticisms of Trump, his predecessor and successor, who sat in the audience listening with rapt attention.

Yet it wasn't Biden's words that lingered most. It were the pauses, where the Cathedral seemed to exhale, as if mourning itself.

It was a moment of sharp contrast also — Biden, who let Gaza burn, standing in tribute to Carter, the man who dared to call for equality between Palestinians and Israelis when few would.

Outside, among the gathered crowds, there were faces that told the real story of Carter's enduring legacy. Teachers, farmers, veterans — ordinary Americans who had come to honour a life rooted in service.

"I don't care about politics. What struck me about him was his kindness, honesty and humility," Martha Davis, a teacher from Washington DC, told TRT World. Her words echoed what many felt.

Carter's long life, which spanned 17 American presidencies, began as a child of the Great Depression. He was the last of a rare lineage of US leaders who chose not to profit from their post-presidency, declining lucrative speaking fees and book deals.

Instead, he spent his years building homes for the homeless, writing letters to strangers, and championing human rights.

At the funeral service, three of Carter's grandsons spoke movingly of their granddad's lifetime of public service, often away from public glare.

"He spoke about the Palestinian issue at the dinner table with the same conviction he showed in public," Jason Carter, one of Carter's grandsons, said in his eulogy.

As Carter's casket was carried from the Cathedral, heads lowered, faces shadowed with solemnity, and a quiet choreography of military precision unfolded.

For a fleeting moment, the divisions that often fracture America seemed to dissolve.

Soon Carter's funeral cortege departed for Joint Base Andrews. The transition from the marbled grandeur of Washington to the clay roads of Georgia felt almost poetic — a final return to the soil that had shaped him, both literally and figuratively.

Plains, Georgia, wasn't just Carter's home; it was his heart.

For the people of Plains, this wasn't a farewell to a president but the loss of a neighbour, a friend.

Following a final ride past the old train depot that served as his 1976 presidential campaign headquarters in Plains, Carter will be buried on family land in a plot next to Rosalynn, to whom he was married for more than 77 years.

The rustling Georgia pines will watch the former president being laid to rest. No fanfare, no flourish — only the soft murmur of the country wind, carrying his extraordinary story back to the earth.

Across the US, flags hang at half-mast. Federal buildings stand quiet, and the pulse of the world's largest economy — its stock markets — is silent.

From the stark stone of Washington to the raw red clay of the Plains, Carter's farewell served as the final line — marking the close of an era that will not come again.