December 30, 2023 / By mobanmarket
LONG ISLAND, NY — “No. Not Matthew Perry.” Across the world, the words echoed on social media as news of the beloved actor’s death broke hearts. The aching sound of grief reverberated as scores of fans were left blindsided that one of the funniest television performers of all time was lost at just 54 years old, after what has been reported as an apparent drowning.
They mourned Perry himself, a whip-smart actor whose comedic timing raised the proverbial bar. They empathized with his well-documented struggle with drugs and alcohol and lauded his efforts to help others struggling along the road to recovery, pitted with deep obstacles and so much despair.
And they saw a light go out, inside themselves, as part of the innocence of their collective childhoods and youth faded forever. Never again, they said, would the six members of the tight-knit “Friends” gather on a stage or for a photograph, as they did on their highly acclaimed reunion in 2021.
Here’s the thing. In losing Perry, we are, all of us, reminded all too clearly of how precious and fragile this bond of longtime friendship is. Yes, the world watched as “Friends” debuted in 1994 and in Chandler, Joey, Ross, Rachel, Monica, and Phoebe, we saw a flicker of ourselves. Of the twentysomething version of ourselves who frolicked with friends by a fountain, sat talking late into the night, argued and laughed and cried and dreamed — so many dreams, the bright future all still ahead, still left to unfold.
We’ve all had them, friends like that. Friends who, bright and shiny with youth, were there for all our firsts. Our first kisses, our first dates, first jobs, first loves, first heartbreaks. We’ve had friends so close that no matter what boys hurt us, what job let us go, what financial challenges piled up — no matter what, as the “Friends” song says, so beautifully, those friends were there for you. And you, for them.
No matter what painful things life had in store, no matter what, you had your friends.
And then, as the years pass, the stories, the shared memories, pile up like so many slips of paper in a treasure box. The memories of nights out till dawn, of the first plane trip to Europe, the drinks and the dinners, the parties and the dates, good and bad, but all fodder for the long bestie talks that followed.
Then come the real life moments that define a life — marriage, when your best friends stand beside you as you take the hand of your partner and walk into the future. The babies, when your best friends have babies too, and your babies grow up together, becoming friends themselves — family, really.
There are illnesses, some so frightening that ice grips your heart. There are divorces and financial crises and there are months when the phone doesn’t ring, because life is like that, and sometimes, the best of friends drift apart due to time and distance and you never think there won’t be a tomorrow when you can’t call and catch up, as if no minutes have passed at all.
And, too, there are the dark moments, when a friend struggles with addiction and sobriety and no matter how hard hard you love them, no matter how many times you gather tight in solidarity around them, the inner demons are too daunting — the hand held tightly slips out of your grasp.
There are the worst of times, the times when the phone call comes, telling you that your friend is gone. The official cause of Matthew Perry’s death is not yet known, but in the end, the details pale in the face of the gaping loss his friends — and all of those who loved him for his talent and his heart, so open and giving and yearning to help others — are enduring.
I think it’s a testament to the bond they shared that his “Friends” cast mates haven’t yet shared a statement — they’re silent in love and grief as they face the unthinkable, a life without the man who was, indeed, their friend, their family. Tightly wrapped in tears as they try to imagine a world without the one person who completed the circle only they shared.
And that’s what’s most tragic. Life goes on, after losing a friend, but it’s never the same. They are the ones who hold your stories in their hearts, who shared your journey to the person you became. There will be other friends, other experiences. But no one can replace those original friends. The ones who were there beside you for everything, cheering on your successes and drying your tears during the dark times.
Those friends, they’re irreplaceable.
Matthew Perry’s death has left us all a little less innocent, our lights a little less bright. Life has changed for all of us, his death a reminder of just how cruelly, how suddenly, it can all slip away. So we hold our friends just a little bit tighter, laugh, as he did, the king of all funnymen, in the face of pain.
And if we are to honor what he hoped would be his legacy, we do our best to help another along the way, to leave the world a little bit less painful, a little kinder.
Because that’s what friends do.
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