Book excerpt: "Softly, as I Leave You: Life After Elvis" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley

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In Priscilla Beaulieu Presley's new memoir, "Softly, as I Leave You: Life After Elvis" (written with Mary Jane Ross, to be published Sept. 23 by Grand Central), she recounts what she lost when she divorced the King, and how she found herself – as a single mother, businesswoman and actress.

In the excerpt below, Priscilla writes about the events of August 16, 1977, when Elvis was found dead at Graceland, and the effect upon her and their daughter, Lisa Marie.

Read the excerpt below, and don't miss Lee Cowan's interview with Pricilla Presley on "CBS Sunday Morning" September 21!

"Softly, as I Leave You: Life After Elvis" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley

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On August 16, 1977, I was meeting my sister for lunch on Melrose Avenue. It was a strangely cold and damp day for summer in Los Angeles. As I neared the restaurant, Michelle was flagging me down from the corner across the street. When I came to a stop, she rushed over to the car. She told me that she'd just had a call from Dad. Joe Esposito was phoning all over, trying to get a hold of me. It was something about Elvis being in the hospital. My heart stopped. I knew Joe wouldn't be doing that if it was just another of Elvis's hospital stays. Something must be terribly wrong.

I did a U-turn and raced home, running traffic lights and going far too fast. Cars skidded to a halt to miss me. It's a miracle I didn't get hit. All the way home, I prayed over and over, "Dear God, please let it be all right." Lisa was at Graceland, due to come home later that day, so she was part of whatever was happening.

When I reached home, I could hear the phone ringing as I got out of the car. I prayed it would keep ringing until I reached it. I let myself into the house with shaking hands and grabbed the receiver.

It was Joe. I said, "What's happened?" He replied, "It's Elvis."

"Oh my God."

"Cilla, he's dead. We've lost him." His voice broke.

I began screaming, "No! No, no, no, no, no!" I started to sob, and I could hear Joe crying on the other end of the line.

"Joe, where's Lisa?"

"She's okay. She's with Grandma." I asked Joe to send a plane for me, as quickly as he could, and hung up. The questions I needed answered would have to wait.

A few minutes later, the phone rang again, and when I picked it up, I heard Lisa's voice saying, "Mommy! Mommy! Something's happened to Daddy! Everybody's crying."

I could hear Vernon's voice in the background, sobbing and saying, "My son! My son!"

I told Lisa, "I know, baby," and reassured her that Daddy's plane was coming for me soon. I told her to wait with Grandma until I got there. She said she was going outside to play with her friend.

I hung up in a kind of daze. I couldn't absorb what Joe had told me. How could Elvis be dead? I had just talked to him two days before. He'd sounded good.

Joe sent Elvis's private plane, the Lisa Marie, to pick up Michelle and me, my parents, Jerry Schilling, and a handful of other close friends to fly us to Memphis. When we got to Graceland, I found Lisa playing golf carts in the yard with one of her friends. At first, I thought it was an odd reaction, and I worried about what the paparazzi would make of Lisa playing in the wake of her father's death. But then I realized it was a child's way of escaping the reality of the silent house. I hugged her close, then went inside.

I still didn't know what had happened, so Joe told me. Ginger had found Elvis unconscious, face down on the floor of the bathroom, that afternoon. She called downstairs for help, and Joe had raced upstairs. He knew immediately that Elvis had passed, but he didn't want to believe it. My heart plummeted as Joe confirmed that Lisa had seen Elvis's body. Elvis was still face down on the floor when she saw him, his face buried in the shag carpet. Lisa had been afraid he was suffocating. Joe wasn't sure if she'd understood what she was seeing. He'd sent her to see Grandma while the ambulance came. He did chest compressions while they waited for the ambulance. A doctor continued efforts to resuscitate Elvis as they raced to the hospital, but all the efforts were futile. Shortly after arrival, Elvis was pronounced dead. Apparently, it was a heart attack.

Inside Graceland, the atmosphere was eerie. The house seemed hollow and dead. It was as if the energy had been sucked out of it—Elvis's life force. We all walked around like zombies. Vernon was distraught. He felt Elvis's passing very, very deeply. It broke my heart to see such a strong man repeatedly call out his son's name, tears streaming down his face. He was losing his only child. A part of Vernon was lost that day as well. I never again saw the energy he once had. When- ever he'd come into a room and said, "Hey, son," his face would light up with a smile. I never saw that smile again. Grandma struggled to believe that Elvis was gone. After he left us, she always carried a little handkerchief. I'd see her tearing up, and she'd wipe her eyes and whisper, "My boy."

There was no privacy for those of us closest to Elvis, including the family. People and cameras surrounded the property. Mourners waited to be admitted to the house for a public viewing of Elvis's open casket. The funeral was a nationally televised event. The streets near Graceland were thronged with tens of thousands of people. The crowds were so large by the second day that President Jimmy Carter called up the Air National Guard to help local police. It was hot and muggy, and some in the crowd fainted from the heat and from emotion. In the afternoon, thousands of people filed past the open casket that had been set up in the front hall. Lisa stayed with Elvis's body as much as she could. She didn't want to leave him. We sat on the stairs and watched as people walked by. Crowds of strangers in Elvis's home, crying and paying their respects. Some mourners had walked away from their jobs to drive sixteen hours or more to Memphis and line up along Elvis Presley Boulevard, hoping to be admitted to the house. The trip was a financial sacrifice for many of them, for much of the crowd was made up of the everyday people who identified with Elvis as one of their own. He, too, had come from poverty. He had remained loyal to his hometown and his family, and he never got above his upbringing. They felt compelled to pay their respects as they would to a family member. It was overwhelming. There wasn't room yet for our own grief.

His memorial was an international event. While mourners gathered in Memphis, Christ's Church in London held a service in Elvis's honor. Over five hundred people crowded the sanctuary and the lawn outside. At the close of the service, they all sang "Amazing Grace" in his honor. Elvis's passing was felt not just in Memphis, but around the world.

The private funeral service was held in the living room and adjoining music room, with the peacock glass framing an archway between the two. Elvis's coffin was moved into the room for the service. Vernon had hired a local preacher who didn't know Elvis and who talked primarily about Elvis's legendary generosity. The Blackwood Brothers, longtime friends and backup singers for Elvis, sang gospel songs. I sat on the couch with Lisa and Vernon, numb with grief. It was all a blur at the time, and it still is.

Lisa and I waited until we could be alone with Elvis to say goodbye. I had bought a silver bracelet engraved with the words, "I love you, Daddy," for Lisa to give him. I helped her put it around his wrist. Then we each kissed him one last time. I'm not sure it hit me until then that he was really gone. The body I had held and caressed so many times was now stiff and empty. It was an eerie, aching feeling.

A line of white Cadillacs formed the funeral procession to the Forest Hill Cemetery. Lisa and I rode with Vernon in the car immediately following the hearse. Elvis was entombed in the Presley family crypt with his mother. Two days later, after two thieves tried to steal the coffin, he was moved to the Meditation Garden at Graceland and kept under security. Gladys was moved to Graceland shortly afterward, to lie beside him. Elvis and I used to sit in that garden in the small hours of the morning, in the peace and the moonlight. I was glad they had brought him home.

Vernon had a bronze plaque made to cover the coffin, with an inscription ending, "We miss you, Son and Daddy."

I returned home to LA with Lisa, feeling that a large part of me had died with Elvis. I couldn't accept that he had passed. I'd felt Elvis would always be there. He was such a force of nature. Despite all my fears for him, I never thought he would die at the age he did. He was still so young. He'd talked so much about what he still wanted to do. He had plans for his music and for his life. Elvis wasn't ready to leave. I wasn't ready.

It was a constant battle to accept that he was gone. Every morning, I would wake up and remember, "Oh God, Elvis isn't here anymore. How can I live knowing that?" I was frightened to be in a world without Elvis in it.

There would be no more calls. I would never again pick up the phone and hear his voice. There would be no more visits, no more dropping by unexpectedly. I wouldn't be going to Graceland anymore, except to visit Grandma and Vernon. There was no more Memphis Mafia. Everybody scattered. Everything changed. I changed. I had been happy-go-lucky, always excited about where we were going or what we were doing next. I had finally adjusted to the separation, feeling free and adventurous. Optimistic. My memories of Elvis had been happy ones. When I went somewhere we'd been, I would think, "Oh my gosh, we went here." I remembered the times fans would cling to him and want pictures. They loved him and didn't want to let him go, and when he tried to escape, a trail of girls would follow him. It had been fun. He had so much charm and was so generous to loved ones and strangers alike. It filled him with joy when he was able to do something special for other people.

Now my mind was filled with images of loss. I couldn't get away from reminders of him. The media was filled with articles and broadcasts about Elvis, and his songs flooded the radio stations. If I went out, people would come over and say, "I'm so sorry." I knew they meant well, but it was painful. For a long time after Elvis passed, I rarely went anywhere. I waited a while to continue with my life.

Worst of all, I no longer had a father for my daughter. I was raising my child by myself, a brokenhearted child who had lost her daddy. When we got back home from the funeral, we were surrounded by reminders of his passing. I had to protect her from all the news reports, the unwanted attention, the nonstop condolence calls. It seemed like every newspaper and magazine had a headline about his passing. If Lisa and I went to the grocery store, I'd pull the ones with headlines out of the rack and turn them around in the checkout line so Lisa wouldn't see them. To get her away from the constant reminders, I decided to send her to summer camp. I hoped it would not only insulate her from the publicity but also take her mind off her thoughts. Joanie's kids and some of her other friends were there. I checked on her regularly at camp, and she seemed to be doing pretty well. She later said that camp had helped. When it ended for the summer, my sister and I took her out of the country to give her some privacy until the incessant publicity died down. We went to England and later to Europe. We were seldom recognized there, and we could explore the sights in peace.

Adapted from "Softly, As I Leave You: Life After Elvis" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley with Mary Jane Ross, published on September 23, 2025. Copyright © 2025 by GLDE, Inc. Used by arrangement with Grand Central Publishing, a division of Hachette Book Group. All rights reserved.

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