The last few weeks have been remarkable in terms of famous women’s deaths.

First there was Dolly Parton, whom I was lucky to meet at a Wayne Newton concert with my parents, in Las Vegas, when I was eight years old. She was thirty (and not yet as famous as she became).  In those days, dinner was served at the major shows, and my family sat across from her and chatted and found her friendly and kind. Since her passing, I’ve learned about her philanthropy, and admired how she did so much good while avoiding the polarization of our times.

Then there was Yayoi Kusama, the amazing artist who started out in the Pop Art days of Andy Warhol and his peers. She became famous in her old age for her pumpkins and polka dots and mirrored infinity rooms. At different times, I’ve been inside her installations with various people I love, and I’ve always found it unforgettable.

And then there was Gloria Steinem, who changed my life with a famous essay, “If Men Could Menstruate.” It turned the embarrassment that I felt about my period as a teenager into laughter and relief. For years I subscribed to Ms. Magazine, which she founded, and drew from it comfort and strength.

The three of them are truly examples of lives well lived. Their memories are a blessing and an inspiration.