I Killed Vincent Gardenia

I don't mean to say I murdered him, I didn't kill him on purpose. I didn't kill him accidentally, either. But it's still my fault he's dead.
Let's go back to 1992 in Philadelphia. My brilliant friend who shall heretofore be referred to as, uuhhhh, Milton, knew how much I adored Vincent Gardenia. For the painfully young or ignorant, Vincent Gardenia was a beloved Italian actor, born in Naples and raised in Brooklyn, BROOK-A-LEEN according to the old school Italians I grew up with. He was Frank Lorenzo, Archie Bunker's neighbor. He was in Little Shop of Horrors, Bang The Drum Slowly, and best yet, Cher's father Cosmo in Moonstruck. Something about him really tickled me. He was in previews for a play, Breaking Legs, in Philadelphia. Milton called him at the theater, told him about me and my fondness for him, and my appreciation of his work. I knew every line of Moonstruck, and so did my teenage daughter. We spent hours taking turns being Cosmo and Loretta, Rose, Johnny, Ronnie, Uncle Raymond and Aunt Rita. So, when Vincent Gardenia, (and yes, I will be typing out Vincent Gardenia every time I mention his name) agreed to meet Milton and me for drinks one night after the show, I was thrilled! I thought I was it! Having rubbed elbows with some very famous rock stars, I wasn't starstruck at all, and I looked forward to a wonderful evening full of theater talk since Milton was a playwright and I a patron of the arts!
A day or two before our planned meeting, Vincent Gardenia died of a heart attack. I was sad, selfishly disappointed, heartsick. Then it occurred to me that he died to get out of having drinks with me. That it was all my fault, and the poor man, having a sharp sense of humor and great comedic timing, died to avoid me. To show Miss Fancypants Look at ME having Drinks with Vincent Gardenia, star of stage and screen, a thing or two. So, in my own, greedy, obsessive little way, I killed Vincent Gardenia. May he rest in peace.