We never met. How could we?

After all, you are simply a fantasy. A combination of writers, directors and an actor, captured going through the motions of a life that never quite existed.

But does this stop you being… real?

We met many times. You were in my living room, and I was by your side in the world as you struggled to find the monsters and deal with their aftermath.

Fantasy. Reality. Who cares? Sometimes, all that matters is the feelings.

I cried when you died. Wept openly at the sight of your friends and colleagues – more actors playing their parts – paid you tribute and dealt with their pain and loss.

Some would laugh at that and claim I was on the wrong side of the line between fan and fanatic. But, it brings me no shame to admit my pain at your death.

You are not my first fictional loss. Nor will you be my last.

The pain, and sometimes anger, are a little different each time. They remind me that while you may not be, I am real.

Fair winds and following seas. You will be missed.