I dance around, pretending that you are really here with me. I can even feel you here sometimes. But you’re not here. You will never be here to dance with me again. I know that you’re supposedly in a better place, but why does that better place have to be so far away from those who love you? I wish I was there with you. I miss you so much. Why did you have to go? You were too young. You didn’t deserve to die. I guess not too many people actually deserve to die. But your life wasn’t complete. You still had a family to take care of. You still had a wife that needed you. I didn’t want to believe that you were gone. After you died, I still felt like you could just walk in the door to the house anytime and just keep living your life. It was stupid, I know. But I just couldn’t seem to fully grasp that you were gone. Every time I fully realized that you were gone, when I wanted to tell you something or do something with you, it hurt so much. I would be dancing around as though you were really here, and the kids would come down and see me. I would just look at them and they would look at me. They knew what I was doing. We would look at each other and they would start to cry. They would come over and we would hug each other. I guess I have to go now. And besides, you’re probably very busy. I love you, Paul. Good-bye.