Bill Worrell gave me a gift once and never even knew he did it. He threw a Christmas party that was open to all comers. I attended, along with my wife and the friends who had been the year before. At this party I met Walt Wilkins. He was moving back to Texas and bringing his music with him. Over the years a friendship developed between the musician and the writer. His friends became my friends and these days it takes more than two hands and two feet to count them. In fact, innumerable comes to mind, a serendipitous gift, from a stranger.

As for Worrell, our personal relationship became a nodding one. We continued attending the Christmas soiree until events conspired against us. We went to concerts at his home on the banks of the Llano river. We nodded and shook hands at Luckenbach. We have his art on the wall of our home, three ornaments we won in drawings at a couple of those Christmas shows, framed, and nicely displayed. He was a prodigious talent, artist, musician, writer, and a prodigious human, because who has parties open to all comers? Worrell.

I’m unsure how the world will recenter itself after his death this week. The loss of the man is breaking a lot of hearts and the mending will be hard. I guess time will tell. Although, being as he was a man who gave of himself, I imagine that will be a large part of his legacy and help with the healing. Almost all of the people I know who were close to him also tend to give of themselves, in abundance. Which means even though they’re in pain their first thought will be for the crying friends. And although it seems presumptuous to say it, since I hardly knew him, I think Bill would like that. Friends looking out for one another, especially in a time of need.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale