Here we are at the end of this story that I wrote dedicating it to the person most important to me: my guardian angel Elvis Presley. I tried in every possible way to get close to his thoughts, especially on the night of 16 August 1977, and I hope I succeeded. He never wrote an autobiography and it is really a great pity because we would have known what he thought at a certain moment: for example when his mother died or Lisa was born.

Now I address myself to you, Elvis.

I wrote this story thinking of you and all that you went through in your life. You were an angel who came down to earth to give people joy and you succeeded. You were used as an object by that megalomaniac manager and some members of the 'Memphis Mafia' who did not understand your illnesses. This is not fair at all. Every time I cry thinking that I will never get to see you live, but I understand that you could not live long with such a devastated body. You captured me like no one else ever could: when you smile and laugh I am happy too and when you are sad and sick I am too. You came at a time in my life when I needed a helping hand: you appeared to me in a dream hugging and kissing me. Twice. You are close to me and I feel it. I miss you and knowing that in 80 days I will have to face that 16 August again devastates me. You are my everything.

I dedicate the words of your song 'Wonder of you' to you:

"When no-one else can understand me
When everything I do is wrong
You give me hope and consolation
You give me strength to carry on

And you're always there to lend a hand
In everything I do
That's the wonder
The wonder of you

And when you smile the world is brighter
You touch my hand and I'm a king
Your kiss to me is worth a fortune
Your love for me is everything..."

You are my wonder, Elvis. I miss you.