For almost a decade, since his fatal illness was announced, I always knew when the awful day would come I’d be traveling to pay my last respects to President Reagan. Based on the past use of Presidential Libraries for funerals coupled with my longtime Ronald Reagan Presidential Foundation membership I always thought the trip would be to Simi Valley. However, a call to the Foundation confirmed the ceremonies there would be private. Washington DC it would be.
Wednesday, June 8 started at 4:45AM. After a workout, run and packing I was off to work at 7, leaving at 3:20 and at Washington-Dulles at 11:30PM PST. A taxi ride to the hotel to drop off my bag and walk to the Capitol put me in the viewing line at 1:04AM.
The first site of the line was astounding. Its zigzagging covered from the Capitol down to the reflecting pool across 3rd Street SW all the way to 4th Street SW. This sea of people contained Americans with baseball caps, military hats, turbans and Stetsons. Americans in wheelchairs and dads with kids on shoulders. Americans in shirts and shorts. Americans in suits and dresses. Americans with flags and flowers.
At 2:46AM part of the crowd broke into God Bless America.
At 5:20AM I made it to the stairs which climb into the rotunda. The beat in my chest grew faster and heavier. The line moved into the rotunda and split into half circles around the casket to the left and right. I chose right. I always choose right.
At first it was hard to see with the honor guard and wreaths blocking the view. Then came the sight of the flag draped casket of my hero. The sorrow and grief was overwhelming. It took all my willpower to maintain my composure. I kept telling myself to hold it together until outside and away from the crowds.
As I moved around I respectfully paused, eyes lingering on the red, white and blue. I lifted my gaze long enough to take it all in. The stillness of the honor guard, the cameras along the walls, the silence, the great dome soaring high above. Before exiting the rotunda I turned one last time, hand over heart and said my last goodbye and for everyone I knew who respected Ronald Reagan.
The line silently moved down a stairwell to the visitor’s center underneath the rotunda, usually abuzz with the noise of tourists. Mind flooded with thoughts I walked outside to find dawn settling on DC. I moved to the marble railing on the terrace to see the new day’s light lingering over the sea of mourners, illuminating the Washington Monument and not quite reaching the still illuminated glow of the Lincoln Memorial.
As Washington DC started to wake up I made my way around town waiting for a moved up check-in. Finally, after being up for 28 ½ hours I slept for 5 hours.
Three times that day I checked back on the line to find it growing longer.
The last time finding the maze of rope lines had stretched another block- about 8 or 9 hours long.
An early evening walk east on Independence to the Capitol Hill neighborhood was a swim upstream against the seemingly never ending flow of folks headed towards that line.
Friday June 11th was met with overcast skies and a sporadic drizzle. Symbolic of a sad day. I made my way down to the Capitol and took position. At 10:30 promptly the band started and the crowd fell silent. I thought back to January 21st, 1981, his first Inaugural Address, an overcast winter day. As the newly sworn-in President took the podium the clouds parted and sunlight beamed down on the stand. Now the drizzle started falling more heavy and steadily. Tears from Heaven. A 21 canon salute commenced each reverberation a shocking reminder of why we were there. Soon the honor guard carried the casket down the Capitol steps with Mrs. Reagan following behind.
The motorcade was supposed to follow Constitution to 3rd, but instead took 1st. Seeing this the crowd quickly, quietly and respectfully moved to see the motorcade. Standing along the curb the hearse drove by, and I saw the casket for the last time. In the limo following was Mrs. Reagan, looking sad but still waving to the crowd. What grace.
Next was a subway ride to Cleveland Park and 30 minute walk to the National Cathedral listening to Rush’s coverage the whole time. I stared at the magnificent facade fixated on the great words being spoken behind its walls.
After the ceremony President Bush’s motorcade was the first to leave out of many. I saw him walk down the stairs to the armored limo and then as they drove off saw him waving yards away from my viewpoint. I impulsively waved back.
It was all a remarkable and emotional experience and I am humbled to have been involved in it.