I haven't had to cope with death during my life. In a sense, I've been spared the grief associated with that inevitable process.

Except for my grandfather, who died when I was nine, I haven't lost anyone in my immediate family or friends since emerging from adolescence. It is both a relief and a worry -- I don't feel I'll be prepared to deal with it when the time comes.

That's rather strange considering we live in a world where death , violent or natural, is an everyday occurence. Yet the constant barrage of nameless deaths seen vividly every night on the local news has, in a way, desensitized me to the event.

. . . John Doe died today of a heart attack at age 35. Joanne Doe was brutally murdered today in her West Side apartment at age 21 . . .

Yet when I heard the news Sunday morning of the passing of directing great Federico Fellini and the shocking, untimely death of actor River Phoenix, I felt unexpected feelings of loss. I've never spoken to them, shared ideas with them or even seen them face to face.

But I knew them.

Fellini was not only a great director, but the great director. Through milestone films like La Strada and Amarcord, Fellini brought a visionary approach to filmmaking. His films were alive, brimming over with ideas and images. Fellini's best films were those that had a personal linkage with himself, such as his masterpiece 8½ with a disillusioned director as its main character.

The best thing you can say about Fellini is that you know when you're viewing one of his films. His signature, surreal style is evident after you see just one of his works -- a style that will be sorely missed.

Although Fellini had reached the twilight of his career, Phoenix was still climbing to his peak. With only 12 films to his credit, Phoenix had easily established himself as the best actor of his generation, bursting forth out of the rubble created by the Brat Packers of the early '80s.

That's in large part because Phoenix took chances. He rarely made a film that could be viewed as commercially viable. Instead, Phoenix concentrated on working with great directors and interesting projects.

From the troubled son in Sidney Lumet's Running On Empty, which earned him an Academy Award nomination, to his best performance as a male hustler in Gus Van Sant's My Own Private Idaho, Phoenix shined. His quiet intensity showed through in everything he did. The saddest aspect of his death remains the fact the he probably still had his best work in front of him.

Not to mention the fact that he was only 23. His age, I think, is what made his death hit so close to home. In the days since his death, I've questioned my own mortality, realizing that even at age 20, I'm not ready.