Status: Done!
Love Hides (in the Strangest Places)
15. This Is The End, Beautiful Friend
Two days after Jim had come to see me, Saturday, July 3rd, 1971, the only man I’ve ever loved, James Douglas Morrison, died in his house in Paris because of a supposed heroin overdose. I cried constantly until the funeral. I sat in the front row with Robby, John, Ray, and Pam. Ray held me as I cried mercilessly into his shoulder, and then watched as Jim’s coffin was lowered in to the ground in the Père La Chaise cemetery in Paris.
One month later I called the guys in hysterics from a hotel in Paris and they immediately flew out and found me kneeling in front of Jim’s grave, bawling into my hands.
“Elanor, what’s wrong?” Ray asked, sitting beside me.
I crawled closer to Jim’s tombstone and began to hit it, yelling,
“Why did you have to fucking die?!”
Robby grabbed me away and I clung to his shirt. He sat down in the grass and cradled me as I continued to cry into his chest. Once I calmed down Robby, Ray, and John once again tried asking me what was wrong.
I stared at Jim’s grave and whispered,
“I’m pregnant."
One month later I called the guys in hysterics from a hotel in Paris and they immediately flew out and found me kneeling in front of Jim’s grave, bawling into my hands.
“Elanor, what’s wrong?” Ray asked, sitting beside me.
I crawled closer to Jim’s tombstone and began to hit it, yelling,
“Why did you have to fucking die?!”
Robby grabbed me away and I clung to his shirt. He sat down in the grass and cradled me as I continued to cry into his chest. Once I calmed down Robby, Ray, and John once again tried asking me what was wrong.
I stared at Jim’s grave and whispered,
“I’m pregnant."