Most people who know me know that I loved the Battlestar Galactica reboot.

Some of you even know that I own the original Battlestar series in a Cylon-head boxed set.

Fewer of you know that Richard Hatch, Apollo himself, was my childhood celebrity love. But he was much more than that. In my imagination, I was a fighter pilot on the Galactica, equal to Apollo and Starbuck. I was a vital part of the Galactica crew. And Apollo was my life partner.

Last night, I looked at Instagram and saw a post about Richard Hatch, with an #RIP under it. I quickly went to Twitter and searched and confirmed the worst news. He had died at the age of 71.

It’s silly, how much a TV show can mean to a person. There was something about that show that drew me in. I occasionally imagined myself a part of Buck Rogers’ world with Gil Gerard, Erin Gray and Twiki. But I didn’t spend years after hoping Buck Rogers would get a remake. I hoped, hoped, hoped for years that Battlestar would.

I wrote at length about my attachment to the show on TV Tyrant. Check it out if you want to know more.

Just know that for a lonely girl, the chance to be a part of something bigger – even though it was all in my imagination – meant the world.

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