Forever Young, Always Beautiful (E.P)

Chapter 16 - Don't Cry For Me, My Love

After the Aloha from Hawaii special, things started to downhill for Elvis in regards to his health, career and even his general attitude to life itself. After we returned home from Hawaii, Elvis toured some more. During 1973 alone, he was hospitalised, in comas and he accidentally overdosed twice. I couldn’t bear to watch him do it to himself, but for all his love for me, he wouldn’t listen to my pleas for him to get help. I remember countless times, when Linda was elsewhere, and he was lonely at night, I crawl into bed with him and I’d sob. I’d beg him when I noticed all the pills he no longer tried to hide, my tears making large wet patches on his silk pyjama shirt. He would hold me close and tell me not to worry. “Everything’s fine; don’t you worry none.” He would whisper in my ear, before falling into a coma-like sleep, induced by whatever sleeping pill he was taking at the time.

Starting as early as 1973, the press began their cruel tirade on Elvis and his physical appearance. Long gone were the days of the slender, energetic Elvis that girls had fallen for in 1956, and again in 1968; in his place was a man who was struggling. But he was never as bad as the press describe him. Even as late as 1975, Elvis was still an attractive man, even at 40 years old. I remember the first time he wore the Silver Phoenix jumpsuit; a glorious navy jumpsuit, with a silver phoenix on the chest, I watched him get dressed that night, helping only when necessary or when he asked. I remember wondering to myself how anyone had the right to say he was no longer beautiful; in my mind, as the song goes, he forever young and beautiful to me.

In those later years, Elvis grew more and more distant. Not to those around him necessarily, but from the world. He still doted on Lisa, and still had a laugh with the boys, and he still loved me with the fiery passion of a man half his age. But he was still lonely; no matter what I or anyone else did, it was never enough for him. He retreated and, prior to his meeting Ginger Alden, his last ‘official’ girlfriend and later fiancé, I remember many nights were we would sit in his bedroom at Graceland together: he would read one of his many spiritual books, and I would do anything to make the time pass.

Not long before that fateful day in August 1977, Elvis was due to record his third (and last) television special. By that point, Elvis was not well. He’d had a lot of health problems, some hereditary and some caused by his long-term misuse of prescription drugs. I watched in dismay from the wings of the stage as Elvis struggled through. But, despite his struggle to stand, move and even sing a lot of the time, there were moments where I thought ‘lord, this man has talent’. I remember during that special, he sang Unchained Melody, which would appear on his last studio album, Moody Blue. He told me before the show that he had a song for me; he’d know it was mine because he would sit at the piano to perform it. I watched, despite my constant worry, with excitement as he sat down at the piano. Charlie, ever the attentive one, held the microphone up for him as he played. When his voice reverberated through the auditorium, a shiver went up my spine. I kept my eyes on Elvis, but I couldn’t help but notice the audience had gone silent. Despite what people say, Elvis could still hold his audience captive, up until the end.

August 15th 1977 was like any other day. It happened to be my father’s birthday, so Elvis and I, along with some of the guys, drove out to the cemetery in Memphis where he is buried. Elvis’ mother, Gladys, was buried in the same cemetery only a few yards away, so we’d visit her too. Afterwards, we ran some errands before returning to Graceland to begin packing for the tour Elvis was supposed to start the next day. He was unusually jolly, and seemed in high spirits; I remember he couldn’t stop kissing me, showing his affection for me and, most of all, he took a lot of photos of me. Since he’d shown me his secret photo from his wallet, I said he was allowed to take as many photos of me as he liked, no matter what state I was in, providing he showed them to no one. For his 40th birthday, I bought him 2 cameras, which he loved and had instantly dragged me out into the garden at the back of Graceland for an impromptu photo shoot. Lisa was with us also, which enlightened his mood even further. We’d long since stopped showing out affections for one another around her; she giggled every time her daddy snuck me another kiss, and thought nothing more of it.

That night, seeing as I’d be going on tour tomorrow anyway, I stayed at Graceland. It wasn’t planned, and I don’t know why I decided to stay, but I did and I’m kind of glad I made that decision. Elvis and Ginger had gone to bed and I was sat in the kitchen. Around 5am, Elvis came to find me. “Why’re you still up?” He asked, getting a glass of milk for himself. “I couldn’t sleep.” I replied. I could feel him watching me, his blue eyes still bright despite everything he’d put himself through. “Hey: penny for your thoughts?” He offered, sitting next to me at the kitchen table. I laughed quietly, and took his hand in mine. “I worry about you. And don’t give me that look, Elvis; I have reason to worry about you. Nobody else seems to worry; at least they don’t let on about it if they do.” “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, honey: I’m feeling fine... Ain’t that a Beatles song?” He started mumbling the words, deliberately messing them up in an attempt to make me laugh, to distract me. I laughed but there was no getting around the subject; we were having this talk whether he wanted to or not. So I talked and he listened. And what would be our last conversation ended with a promise: he promised he’d get help. He swore to me, on his beloved mother’s grave, that once the tour was over, he would check into a rehabilitation centre and get help. I kissed him lips and smiled when I pulled away. “What would I ever do without you?” He whispered, playing with the strands of hair that had come loose from my bun. “You’ll never have to be without me. We’re in this together, until the very end.”

Later on in the day, Lisa woke me up by violently shaking me. I was about to scold her but then I noted her expression: she looked worried and scared; her little face that was so much like her daddy’s, was pale with fear. “What’s wrong, Yisa?” I asked, pulling her into my arms. “There’s something wrong with daddy.” And then I heard it: the commotion, coming from the rest of the house. Voices strained from all the yelling, sobbing, loud running footsteps. And, in the distance, the dreadful sound of ambulance sirens. I told Lisa to stay in my room; to put the covers over her head and close her eyes. “I’ll be back for you, button head.” I told her as I pulled my nightgown around me and pulled a pair of boots on. Once I was out of the room, I ran into Elvis’ bathroom. The shock of the scene in front of me caused my knees to buckle under me. Jerry rushed to my side and I began to scream hysterically. Elvis was lying on the floor, unresponsive. His face… god, I still can’t bear to describe his face. That beautiful face that made women the world over swoon was gone; he was almost unrecognisable. Joe was looming over him, trying helplessly to get him to come around. But I knew it was too late; he was gone.