A small story:

#ChadwickBoseman's death is hurting me like he was a friend and until a few minutes ago I wasn't completely certain why. Yes, he was a hugely talented actor, a man whose range we hadn't even begun to see yet.

That kind of waste bothers me.

But this isn't, "Damn, what he would have eventually done with Willy Loman." This is an ache, the feeling of loss not just for the talent, but for the person, a person I did not know.

And that's when I figured it out.

Chadwick Boseman was always, always a role model.

There was a reason he was hired again and again to play figures who were tested by historical forces and prevailed; there was something about his face, his carriage which gave you hope, something almost Capra-esque about the set of his shoulders.

He was a great actor, but the best actor in the world can't fake decency. Boseman was dignified and he was decent; we always crave it but now we need it like oxygen and, like oxygen, we're a little panicked right now because we're very low on it.

I always assumed anyone hired to play a MCU lead is taken through some variation of "MCU Bootcamp," where you are gently broken into the idea that this character will dog you until you die and all children will believe they own you. All the leads seem to get it.

Boseman, however, seemingly effortlessly took on both the MCU mantle and the larger mantle of being a face for children of color to revere, to emulate, to cheer on. Look around online at stories of children meeting him; he never failed them.

He knew what Black Panther meant.

Until today, I didn't realize what Chadwick Boseman meant to me.

I'm not often a decent person and God knows I'm never a dignified person, but I take comfort in knowing these people exist and I mourn that we lost one of them.