It doesn't happen often that one person's passing signifies a loss for the whole world, but the death of Luciano Pavarotti does exactly that.

Most of us come and go with little fanfare, and the ripples we leave in our pond smooth out long before they reach the farthest of even the shores we know about.

Yes, there are those who make global headlines by dying and raise a "hmmm" or a "Gee, that's a shame" ... or even a "Good riddance" ... but any hole left behind is filled by the time the newspapers finish with the funeral. Someone else steps into the vacuum, takes the mantle of "The Next ... ", and we move along.

A world without Pavoratti, however, is not the same as the one with him, and we're not likely to see ... or hear ... anyone like him for a very long time.

I go on and on on these blogs I write about how important ... how life-altering-on-a-grand-scale vital ... it is for everyone to contribute to the greater good. For most of us, this means working extra hard for something beyond our selves or being extra diligent out of concern for a bigger picture. For a very, very few, however, it can mean cultivating a gift, then sharing it.

That Pavarotti was born with a gift is beyond question. That he shared it, beyond the world's ability to fully appreciate. Had he done nothing but sing, his gift to the world would have been generous beyond measure and the loss of him beyond tragic, but he did so much more.

Raised in war-torn Italy as a poor son of a baker, forced from the family home by the fighting, Pavarotti was far from a pampered dilettante. His life experience grew into compassion alongside his wealth and fame, and the blend made the world a better place.

The "Pavarotti and Friends" concerts raised millions for a variety of causes toward the greater good. War Child and the victims of war in Bosnia, Guatemala, Kosovo and Iraq all benefitted from Pavarotti's dedication. (He was made an honorary citizen of Sarajevo in 2006 in appreciation, and over the years received the Nansen Medal, the Freedom of London Award, the Red Cross Award for Services to Humanity and the MusiCares Person Of The Year award.)

He sang to raise money for earthquake victims in Armenia, to clear landmines worldwide, to fight HIV/AIDS, to campaign for the rights of children, on behalf of refugees and for the Red Cross.

Personally, he raised more than $1.5 million, more than any other individual ever.

A deeply spiritual man, he appreciated life's mysteries; he could place himself in the tapestry that is life and understand that threads connected him to the most remote corner and the furthest edge.

He was an inspiration, a treasure, a gift to us all. We may not have even a tiny fraction of his talent, but we can share his humanity.

This Earth is poorer without him.