Life Still Goes On

Chapter 9: Still Grieving

Late November - December 1992

Time slipped by, and one day stood out to me most: November 20th, a week before my baby shower. One whole year ago, though it seemed like only a few weeks, had been the last time I had seen and spoken to Freddie. Just four short days before he passed away.

It was so much to take in, the fact that I had lost someone so dear and important to me. My heart was heavy as lead, and I couldn't help crying. It seemed like a strange fantasy, yet it was very real.

Why did I feel like this? I had had my share of physical torment, why did my soul and mind feel just as crappy as my body? Why did I feel like, as if by some miracle, Freddie Mercury wasn't gone? Even though he had died, he was very much alive in my heart.

I found solace in some of the last words he had said to me as I visited his house to comfort him as he deteriorated.

"It's going to be fine... I still love you... Goodbye, Ella darling... Remember to be brave, dear... Love you."

How could a man have been so brave in the face of death? How was it possible that Freddie died with a smile? I believed that he was truly heroic. Even as he was fading away due to AIDS and bronchial pneumonia, not an easy death to face, he never really gave up or despaired. I knew that he'd been ready to die, and death came peacefully for him.

It was Roger who came to visit me on the 24th. I needed his comfort and care, as it seemed that my entire being was shattered. My throat was full of tears, just as it was at that fateful moment when Roger called me to inform me that Freddie died.

"It's not really real anymore, Roggie," I cried. "Nothing is right."

His fingers started to stroke my hair. "Listen. Like I said before, you can always count on me." His wide blue eyes examined me. "You look great."

"Bah, nonsense. I'm carrying a fetus at full term. That isn't great."

He smirked. The Roger Meddows Taylor Half Smile. "You're looking bloody fantastic. Don't be so hard on yourself!" He paused. "So... The baby?"

"Yeah. It's a girl as you know. Her health problems haven't gone away," I replied. Roger, Nathan, and my parents were the only ones who knew that Regina's esophagus and stomach were disconnected.

He felt my stomach with his left hand. "Oh, she's really kicking hard! Ella, do you know what you're going to name her?" he asked, with his gentle gravelly voice.

"Don't tell anyone else."

He nodded, still digging his hand into my tummy. "I won't."

"Her name is Regina Lily Miller," I said. "I like the name. Regina means Queen."

Rog's visit made me a bit happier, and I resolved to be strong for him and for Freddie. Oh, how I wished that Fred could see me now. His death preceded my engagement, wedding, and pregnancy. He'd probably beam with wonder as he felt my stomach and the new life within it. It hurt my heart to know that he would never see Regina. I wanted to do something special for him even though he wasn't here, so I lit a candle in his honor. "Legends are like eternal flames," I thought. "Flames that are never extinguished. And I do believe that Freddie's light will shine forever."

Nathan and I held the baby shower in our house on the 27th, surrounded by relatives, coworkers, and friends both old and new. Pink and white balloons filled the house, announcing that the baby was indeed a girl. My mood was decent, but I couldn't help worrying. What if I had a miscarriage? If I did, I would feel like a disappointment to my husband, parents, friends, myself, but most of all to my child. Death was a possibility, but I tried to have fun at the party anyway, dressed in a short, loose grey dress that draped over my bump. I wanted to make a good impression.

I actually did have a good time, and I enjoyed basking in the attention of others, even though I was known for being shy. I had even improved my cooking skill enough in order to bake a cake, vanilla with buttercream icing. The guests enjoyed the shower very much, each offering sincere congratulations.

The days after that seemed to be marked with multiple pains in my body and head. The soreness and cramps I felt were about twice as painful as the ones I faced on my menstrual period. Winter was in full swing, and Christmas was coming soon. Nathan often spent less time working so that he could be with me. London in the winter was just as I remembered every other year of my life: chilly, foggy, and bleak, with the occasional snow.

I spent these winter days reading books about parenthood, sleeping, eating (a lot), watching old sitcoms and soaps, talking to Rog, Bri, or Deaky on the phone, or listening to music. It was during these moments I'd sing or talk to my unborn child.

"Listen, darling. Do you hear the bass? The drums?... Save me, save me, save me, I can't face this life alone, save me, save me, save me, I'm naked and I'm far from home..."

The lyrics in the song, "Save Me", reflected my own vulnerability as I was waiting for some miracle to save me. I couldn't face life alone, it was too hard.

Fortunately I didn't have to. The bond between Nathan and I grew as we concentrated less on our work and more on each other and the baby. We were beyond excited.

One morning- I remember it just vaguely, the 18th of December- Nathan and I were sitting down at the kitchen table eating hot cereal for breakfast. A sharp, knifelike pain hit my groin and I fell out of my chair. Nathan rushed to pick me up.

"Ella, let me help you. Are you okay?" he asked, as I struggled to use his leg as an anchor to pull myself up onto my feet.

Oh damn. I leaned on his shoulder for support. "My legs... I can't stand up. Water is breaking. The baby is on its way. Just take me to the hospital, please!"