Today actor Patrick Swayze, 57, lost his long battle with pancreatic cancer. I’m going to miss him.

I don’t know or care what the critics might have said about his acting skills or his films. I just know I liked both. In fact, I loved Dirty Dancing and Ghost.

Ghost, in particular, made an indelible impression on me. I went by myself to see it on a New Year’s Day afternoon, when everyone else in the world was glued to their television and football games. Well, not quite everyone. There were maybe three other people in the theater, all women. And as people tend to do, we chose seats that kept us well away from each other.

How fortunate that turned out to be. I cry much too easily at almost any movie, and Ghost was absolutely wrenching. My purseful of tissues wasn’t nearly enough. Add the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody” and I was a real mess.

No, I’m no movie critic. I just suspend disbelief and wait to be entertained. Swayze, so easy on the eyes, always delivered.

R.I.P. Patrick Swayze.