Murphy Brown just may be my favorite TV show of all time. But as much as I loved Candice Bergen's tough yet sensitive portrayal of FYI news anchorwoman, Murphy Brown, it was Eldin Bernecky I tuned into watch. Robert Pastorelli played the part of Murphy's eternal housepainter, guru, and ultimately, nanny, so lovingly and expertly that I felt like I knew him.

I vaguely followed Robert's career after Murphy Brown and was always thrilled when he showed up in a movie or TV show I happened to be watching, like Dances with Wolves or Michael with John Travolta. I became a serious, all-out fan, however, when Robert starred in his own TV show, the American version of the British Cracker. He played Fitz, an infuriatingly loveable alcoholic and womanizer who was also an amazingly astute forensic psychologist.

I was pregnant during the one season the show ran and was very sensitive. My husband, Giuseppe, never seemed to be home when I was watching the show and always arrived at the end, as I was emotionally drained and usually either crying or angry. The show was so incredibly dark that Giuseppe told me to stop watching it. But I couldn't. Fitz was brilliant but lost in self-hate, the total opposite of the spiritually evolving and lovable Eldin, but the same power and charisma animated both characters equally and made them come alive on the screen. I was in awe of what kind of person could portray two larger than life characters with such skill and heart. And weirdly enough, I knew that someday I would become friends with Robert Pastorelli.

I am not a stalker. Yes, I admit to having 200 pictures of Robert Redford in my locker when I was in high school and I did have a huge picture of Richard Gere in American Gigolo in my first apartment, but thankfully I'm too psychologically balanced to go beyond pictures and posters. And as much as I still think Robert Redford and Richard Gere are very handsome men, I never really had any desire to become friends with them. As politically active and spiritually correct as they are, they just don't resonate with my spirit the way that Robert Pastorelli did and still does.

As I've aged, I've become more accepting of myself--including my weird hunches. I've also come to see that intuition cannot be judged nor analyzed. I knew that if meeting Mr. Pastorelli was in the cards for me, that I wouldn't have to lift one finger to make it happen. Life would somehow bring him to me. And to be honest, after Cracker was cancelled I didn't watch much TV, I was too busy with my newborn baby to think much about anything other than diapers and getting sleep anyway.

When Sophia was two, we started taking mommy and me music and art classes down the street. At the end of the year, there was an art show exhibiting all the kids' art. While eating a pretzel, I saw him. Wearing a black leather jacket and sunglasses, Robert looked much too cool for our humble art show, and much too nervous. My stomach did a flip as soon as I recognized him--and then I saw a beautiful curly-haired girl in his arms. I hadn't known that Robert had a daughter. I didn't have any idea that he lived in New York. I realized that I really didn't know anything about him. His daughter wasn't in Sophia's music and art class so I assumed she was a year older, which meant that our paths might never cross again. But for some reason I wasn't concerned. I had the unmistakable feeling that we would meet again.

A few months later, Sophia joined the nursery school program for three year olds at the same school. As I walked in the first day, there was Robert and his daughter Gianna. Within a few minutes, Sophia began playing with Gianna and almost immediately they began fighting about who was going to play in the kitchen area. Robert came over and we chatted for a few minutes as we broke up the fight. He seemed sad and out of place. I had the feeling he wasn't entirely up to the job of living, but I put the thought out of my mind.

A few weeks later, I understood the root of Robert's palpable sadness. A parent told me that Gianna's mother had died two years earlier as the result of a gun accident in their Los Angeles home. My heart went out to him and Gianna but I knew that there wasn't much I could do except to be there when and if he needed a new friend. I wanted to tell him how much I loved his acting, but I waited until I sensed that he knew me well enough that he wouldn't think I was a crazed fan. A few weeks before Easter, I couldn't wait any longer and I spilled my guts. He smiled. Then he asked if Sophia and I wanted to go to the park with he and Gianna, who was fast becoming my daughter's best friend.

For the next two years, Robert was my dearest friend. You see, Robert didn't just have friends; he had best friends. If he let you into his life, you were part of his family. After Sophia and me, he became a good friend to my husband. Robert loved that Giuseppe was Italian because he loved Italy and visited his relatives there whenever he was in Europe. He also let it be known that he appreciated my husband's kindness and non-judgmental approach to people. Later, when I met some of Robert's other friends, I wasn't shocked to discover that he still had friends from elementary school. Nor was I surprised to find that Robert had a few unconditionally loving female friends who understood both his darkness and his light and stuck with him no matter what. I'm proud to say these women are now my friends.

I had truly perceived something about this man through the TV screen because it turned out that we had a lot in common. When I first met him, I had the feeling that he was from Pittsburgh, where I'm from, but he had told me that he was from New Jersey. I felt a little crazy, but eventually I asked him if he had some connection to Pittsburgh. He gave me one of his trademark smiles and told me that both of his parents were from Pittsburgh. And when I met them, his sister, and his beautiful nieces, I felt like I had known them my whole life too. There's something about Pittsburgh--a true melting pot of ethnic diversity--that stays with you when you leave and spills over wherever you go.

I knew Robert for a short time but my stories of him could fill a book. That's the way it is with people who are larger than life. The most remarkable thing about Robert was his deep spirituality. He didn't believe in a traditional God, but sensed a presence that was the source of everything. He joked that he was a real "Spiritual Chick." And indeed he was. He was generous. He was loving. He was outrageously funny. He was also an incredibly complicated person.

In the fall of 2002, Giuseppe and I went to London to see Robert at the National Theatre in Streetcar Named Desire and Sophia had a chance to visit with Gianna. It was an amazing production, but Robert's characterization of the sensitive, yet insecure Mitch who is unable to forgive Blanche's past was profound. As he did with the character of Fitz, Robert won critical acclaim for ability to communicate the depth of feeling and conflict in Mitch's soul.

I've since seen Robert in lots movies and in guest appearances on television shows. But for me, my friend is and always will be the spiritual energy that created Eldin, Fitz and Mitch. Three loving, yet highly complicated men with varying degrees of success at coming to terms with their demons. Robert was no stranger to demons. A recovering heroin addict, he had a colorful life, not all of which he was proud of. His struggle with the various aspects of his own nature was deep, which made him incredibly empathetic and also a little aloof at the same time. In the end, I believe that Robert couldn't overcome Gianna's mother's death. On March 8, 2004, one day before my birthday, my dear friend Robert Pastorelli died of a heroin overdose in his Los Angeles home.

His death hit me hard as it did everyone who knew him. One beautiful result, however, was getting to know Gianna's mother's family. Charemon Jonovich was beloved by her family and taken from them and her daughter much too soon. I wish I could have met this beautiful woman whose life and death had such a profound impact on so many people. But somehow I think our paths have already crossed on a deeper level--mother to mother.

As the one-year anniversary of Robert's death approaches, I still miss him like crazy. But death is no obstacle to true friends. He is always in my heart. And his beautiful daughter (who is doing very well thanks to her incredible spirit and a very loving family) will always be a part of my family. That's the way Bobby would have wanted it.

Tami