God Bless you, Mr. Reagan. May the road rise to meet you, may the wind always be at your back, and may the rain fall gently upon your fields...and, when you finally shuffle off of this mortal coil, may you be in Paradise a week before the Devil realizes you've gone missing.
I admit to knowing very little about the day-to-day thought patterns and feelings of those with late-stage Alzheimer's, but I've always thought (and hoped) that in large part they just regress almost like moving backwards from age 10 to birth. Their memory fails, their feelings fail, and they just slowly slip into a sort of pseudoconsciousness where they're not just outwardly mentally incapacitated, but within themselves as well. In other words, that they no longer possess the mental faculties to know that their situation is abnormal or to be able to be upset about it, that in their own minds, almost everything is as it should be. I hope I'm right about this, especially in Reagan's case. (Of course, none of this changes the agony that his family is going through, especially Nancy.)
Also: At the same time we grieve over his condition, we should also remember that the President lived a far more exciting, vibrant life than most of us will, accomplished far more than most of us ever will, and also has lived longer than most of us ever will, even if you assume his life sort of ended in a way around 1995-96 or so. To live as he lived, to be able to do as much as he did to save this country - and the world - from a permanent "malaise" ... it almost seems worth the tradeoff of having to live your final years with Alzheimer's.
Almost.