When Dolly Parton died, I thought, “She was among the greatest musicians and most wonderful people to ever live, but my emotional connection to her doesn’t go very deep. I’m not exactly fit to write about her.”

When Tim Curry died, I thought, “I’ll always remember him as Kilokahn in Superhuman Samurai Syber-Squad, but his career goes so much deeper. I’m not sure.”

When Peter Cullen died, I thought, “What the hell is going on? We even have to say goodbye to Optimus Prime?”

All of them were 80+ years old and had lived long lives. All of them made lasting impact on the arts and culture and the world at large. But while I know I’m at an age where I’d be losing a lot of my favorites and childhood heroes, to have it happen back to back to back just has me thinking about time—how much has passed and how much I and my loved ones have left—as well as the power of media to make people immortal, for better or for worse.

As we move farther away from their lifetimes, there will be a loss of context via lived experiences. At the same time, if future generations (or even current ones) become curious about their performances, we can point at the movies they made, the songs they sang, and the interviews they gave. This is already how a pair of twins can marvel at “Jolene” for the first time and see their own popularity skyrocket. This is how young boys unsure of how to behave as men can look to a heroic figure who emphasizes strength and kindness. This is how those who feel the pressure of growing up in a time of severe wealth inequality can find a like-minded spirit in the past and find levity in the notion of escaping to space.

More than anything, I hope to remember that these were human beings who liked to pay it forward. Should we surpass them in terms of talent, hard work, and love toward the world, we will be in better shape.