His Heart Gave Out

More than three months after my husband died, I finally received his completed death certificate. It lists his cause of death as "probable cardiac dysrhythmia of natural etiology". In other words, his heart gave out. 

What a fitting end for a man whose heart gave out so much to so many. 

When we were first dating, he told me that his mother had taught him that some people are givers, and some people are takers. She taught him to be a giver, and he saw that I was a giver, too. We frequently joked that we had both gotten a double dose of the volunteer gene. We always consciously tried to give back to those around us, whether by donating money to charitable causes, donating our time and talents to organizations we supported, inviting young people to stay in our guest room rather than couch surfing, hosting parties for our friends, taking students under our wings as mentors or cheerleaders, or simply seeing jobs that needed to be done and doing them. 

Given our disparate personalities, the ways in which we gave often looked very different. I was the one quietly working by myself in the background, figuring out what job wasn't covered and taking care of it. At parties, I was usually the one collecting empty plates for the trash, making sure the platters of canapes are circulating, and refilling everyone's wine glasses. He, on the other hand, was always the center of activity (and frequently attention). He was the one at the party leading a sing-along around the piano or telling a story to an eager crowd gathered around him. With his friendly, easygoing, gregarious, extroverted personality, everyone in the world was simply a new friend he hadn't met yet, and he rarely forgot someone that he had met. He loved getting to know people. His list of Facebook friends and LinkedIn contacts numbered in the thousands. And not only was he happy to help any one of them, he was happy to help them to help each other. Whenever he found out someone he knew was looking for a job outside of his own area of experience and expertise, he would put them in touch with another of his contacts who could help. I know of dozens of friends who got a job through either his own connections or a connection they made through him, and I have no doubt there are dozens more that I don't know about. 

Not only did he give of his time and talents, he gave eagerly, generously, and passionately. It wasn't enough to occasionally volunteer with his son's BSA Scout troop; he had to become an Assistant Scoutmaster, a Merit Badge counselor, and an Outdoor Activities Coordinator. He didn't just send an occasional check to his college fraternity; he served on their Alumni Volunteer Corporation for many years, including as both President, and Vice President of Facilities (which is essentially serving as the landlord/property manager of a frat house - no job for the faint of heart!), and hosted a series of young itinerant SigEp regional directors in our home as a break from their travels. He held many offices in his Masonic Lodge, sometimes stepping into the line of succession to fill an empty seat; but he also stepped in at the last minute when someone was missing from a ritual, and was known for staying to finish cleaning up long after other members had gone home. He not only faithfully attended his children's theatrical and dance performances, athletic meets, concerts, and school presentations; but he also chaperoned field trips and band competitions, volunteered to speak to the Digital Literacy classes about Artificial Intelligence and Cybersecurity, and mastered a mean ballerina and gymnastics bun.  

He was not a man to do things halfway. He was a man with a heart as big as his smile. He was a man with a heart for giving. A heart that gave out, and gave out, and gave out, until it gave out. 

The heart of a giver, just like his mother taught him.