We have been hit hard with celebrity deaths recently.

Just in the last month, we have lost powerhouses Robert Redford, Jane Goodall and Diane Keaton.

Earlier this summer, we saw Malcolm Jamal-Warner, who many of us 80s kids grew up watching on “The Cosby Show,” die in a tragic drowning accident.

Each of these people represented qualities I deeply admire and/or aspire to.

My favorite Robert Redford movie is “The Horse Whisperer.” After his death, I watched it for the first time in a very long time. It is nearly three hours long, but the outstanding cinematography and the storyline keep it moving.

Redford plays Tom, a Montana rancher who is known for rehabilitating horses. He is called upon to work with a horse named Pilgrim who has been in a serious accident with his young rider, Grace, played by a 13-year-old Scarlett Johansson. Grace and her executive mother, Annie, played by Kristin Scott Thomas, travel with the horse in a trailer behind them from New York City to Montana to meet with Tom.

In working with Pilgrim in his quiet way, Tom helps heal the brokenness inside of Grace and Annie, too. Redford is a natural (pun intended) in this role. And it is what I will always remember him by. When I need to be grounded through the storms of life, turning to Redford’s understated portrayal in this movie is medicine for my soul.

Losing Jane Goodall, though not surprising given her age, was hard. Here was a woman whom countless women admired for her independence, intellect, inner strength and depth of character.

Goodall had spent her life studying primates by going to their natural habitat and living among them. Initially, she observed them from a distance, but as time went on, the chimpanzees grew more comfortable with her. She learned in her time with them how they are similar to humans in their behavior and in the emotions they experience.

In March, Goodall filmed an interview with Netflix under the condition that it not be aired until after her death. I have seen excerpts and it is eerily comforting to see her speaking to the camera as though she has moved on, and reminding us to always hold on to hope, especially in these times.

Goodall believed in a larger spiritual entity holding everything together. She said she experienced an ineffable presence while working in the jungle with the chimpanzees, and trusted that her death would not be the end of her existence.

I haven’t seen many of Diane Keaton’s movies, but I have always been aware of Keaton as a magically unique, charming, quirky woman with a style all her own. And I, like many women, have admired that, wanting what she’s got.

The proof is in the countless tributes and videos that have been played since she died. I wonder if she was aware how deeply her courage to unapologetically be herself inspired millions of women to shed social expectations and rest in the freedom of just being themselves, flaws and all, like she so freely did.

Finally, Malcolm Jamal-Warner. As I said, I grew up watching him play Theo Huxtable on The Cosby Show. When the show aired, I was around the age of his younger sister, Vanessa, played by Tempest Bledsoe, and particularly enjoyed watching their dynamic play out onscreen. So, in some ways, losing Malcolm Jamal-Warner was like losing an older brother, not to mention losing another piece of my childhood.

As fiftysomething Gen-X’ers, we are not strangers to losing those who entertained us, while growing up with them. Many of those who have died young have been a result of overdoses or accidents.

Malcolm Jamal-Warner had somehow managed to escape the plight of many former child stars and reinvented himself as an actor and through his work as a podcaster. At the time of his death, he was deeply admired for his work, and had plenty of projects he still hoped to accomplish.

Celebrities lead multi-dimensional lives like the rest of us. We often see limited sides of their lives, but those sides we do see can inform and inspire ours in archetypal ways.

In a similar way, most of us will never be famous, but there is some quality in each of us by which those who know us might define us.

It is called character.

And we can decide whether our character will inspire good in others, or not, by the way we show up each day.

Live your life in such a way that when you die, you too will be considered a powerhouse of character.

SPIRIT MATTERS is a weekly column by Jerrilyn Zavada Novak that examines experiences common to the human spirit. Contact her at jzblue33@yahoo.com.