ON JUNE 5, 2004, Ronald Reagan died after a decade-long battle with Alzheimer’s disease. He was the fortieth president of the United States and the first American president to die in the twenty-first century.
He was my father.
After a state funeral at Washington National Cathedral on June 11, our family accompanied the casket back to California aboard Air Force One. We rode in the funeral motorcade to the Reagan Library in Simi Valley, California, where the final service and interment would take place.
As I looked out the window of the limousine, I saw that the streets were lined with thousands and thousands of well-wishers—a vast sea of people who loved, respected, and mourned my father. Many of them had banners or American flags in their hands. Others had their hands over their hearts. Some wept openly. Countless men and women in uniform saluted.
That amazing outpouring of love gave all of us in the Reagan family a huge sense of strength and comfort. We were lifted up by their prayers and their love.
Our motorcade reached the top of that hill where my father’s library stands. There, seven hundred invited guests came to honor his memory and say farewell. People Dad had known since his Hollywood days mingled with leaders who had shaped world events.
The Air Force Band finished playing “Battle Hymn of the Republic” as the sun was setting toward the west. Then I stood and spoke from my heart “Good evening,” I said. “I’m Mike Reagan. You knew my father as governor, as president. But I knew him as Dad. I want to tell you a little bit about my dad—a little bit about Cameron and Ashley’s grandfather—because not a whole lot is ever spoken about that side of Ronald Reagan.
“Ronald Reagan adopted me into his family in 1945. I was the chosen one. I was the lucky one. And in all of his years, he never mentioned that I was adopted, either behind my back or in front of me. I was his son, Michael Edward Reagan.
“When his family grew to be two families, he didn’t walk away from the one to go to the other. He became a father to both families—to Patti and then Ronnie, but always to my sister Maureen and myself.
“We looked forward to those Saturday mornings when he would pick us up. We’d sit on the curb on Beverly Glen as his car would turn the corner from Sunset Boulevard, and we would get in and ride to his ranch and play games—and he would always make sure it ended up a tie. We would swim and we would ride horses or we’d just watch him cut firewood. We were in awe of our father.
“As years went by and I became older and found a woman I would marry, Colleen, he sent me a letter about marriage and how important it was to be faithful to the woman you love, with a PS: ‘You’ll never get in trouble if you say “I love you” at least once a day.’ And I’m sure he told Nancy every day ‘I love you,’ just as I tell Colleen.
“He also sent letters to his grandchildren. He wasn’t able to be the grandfather that many of you are able to be because of the job that he had. So he would write letters. He sent one letter to Cameron and said: ‘Cameron, some guy got ten thousand dollars for my signature. Maybe this letter will help you pay for your college education.’ He signed it, ‘Grandpa,’ then added, ‘PS: Your grandpa is the fortieth president of the United States, Ronald Reagan.’
“Those are the kinds of things my father did.
“At the early onset of Alzheimer’s disease, my father and I would tell each other we loved each other, and we would give each other a hug. As the years went by and he could no longer verbalize my name, he recognized me as the man who hugged him. So when I would walk into the house, he would be there in his chair opening up his arms for that hug hello and the hug good-bye. It was truly a blessing from God.
“We had wonderful blessings of that nature—wonderful, wonderful blessings that my father gave to me each and every day of my life. I was so proud to have the Reagan name and to be Ronald Reagan’s son. What a great honor.
“He gave me a lot of gifts as a child. He gave me a horse. He gave me a car. He gave me a lot of things. But there’s a gift he gave me that I think is wonderful for every father to give every son.
“Last Saturday, when my father opened his eyes for the last time, and visualized Nancy and gave her such a wonderful, wonderful gift—When he closed his eyes, that’s when I realized the gift that he gave to me, the gift that he was going to be with his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
“Back in 1988, on a flight from Washington, D.C., to Point Mugu, he told me about his love of God, his love of Christ as his Savior. I didn’t know then what it all meant. But I certainly know now.
“I can’t think of a better gift for a father to give a son. And I hope to honor my father by giving my son Cameron and my daughter Ashley that very same gift he gave to me.
“It’s the gift of knowing where he is this very moment, this very day—that he is in heaven. And I can only promise my father this: Dad, when I go, I will go to heaven, too. And you and I and my sister, Maureen, who went before us, will dance with the heavenly host of angels before the presence of God. We will do it melanoma- and Alzheimer’s-free.
“Thank you for letting me share my father, Ronald Wilson Reagan.”
Every fifth of June since my father’s funeral, unless I’m away on business, I make a point of visiting my father’s grave at the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. I think about his life and I say a prayer of gratitude—and I read the inscription in my father’s own words: “I know in my heart that man is good. That what is right will always eventually triumph. And there’s purpose and worth to each and every life.”
I have traveled across America, giving speeches and meeting thousands of people. Again and again, people tell me how much they love and miss my father. Some share stories of meeting him. Others tell me what his presidency meant to them. I never tire of hearing people talk about my dad or receiving the hugs they wish they could give to him. I’m always reminded of the many hugs my father and I shared whenever he and I were together.
I’ve often said that Ronald Reagan was the greatest man I’ve ever known—and one of the greatest men the world has ever known. I’ve spent my whole life studying him, absorbing the lessons he taught me, trying to follow the example he set. Dad was not a perfect father, but he truly loved his children. He and my mother divorced when I was three, so I only got to see him every other weekend—but he would pack as much fun and relationship-building as he could into those weekends.
Dad would take me to his ranch, and we’d do chores together, he’d tell me stories and talk to me about life. Did I understand everything he was trying to teach me? Did I appreciate his wisdom and experience? No, not at the time. But years later, I remembered many of those lessons, and they finally made sense to me.
The lessons my father taught me have made all the difference in my marriage, my family, my professional life, my friendships, and my faith. In the next few chapters, I’ll share those lessons with you and show you how my father’s values and wisdom impacted my life—and changed the world.
Thank you for letting me share with you the lessons my father taught me.