My new book, Dear Elvis, is a story about a woman who, after learning about the death of a beloved friend, turns to her childhood idol for guidance. In a series of letters to Elvis, she describes her overwhelming sense of loss and disbelief. Along the way she meets a complete stranger, a priest named Father Chris, who encourages her to continue her search for answers, and sends her on an unforgettable journey to Graceland - and beyond. The first of the forty-two letters written to Elvis begins this way:
Dear Elvis,
I’m sorry that you’re dead. Forty-two was much too young to die and you have been dead for such a long time. But then dead is dead, or at least that’s what a writing instructor told me once. He said there are no comparative or superlative forms for dead. There is no dead, deader, deadest. There is only just dead. But then I’ll bet you already knew that.
So listen Elvis, where are you? Are you in heaven? And if you are, where is heaven? To tell you the truth, I kind of believe in heaven. So there must be one. I just don’t know where it is and I kind of figured you would know since, well, you know, you’ve been there for forever. And you must know everybody. Like, do you meet everyone after they arrive? Everyone who knew you? Or knew of you?
Let me get to the point. Is Don there? Have you seen him? Have you talked to him?...
