So no one told you life was gonna be this way…
It’s been over a week since Matthew Perry’s death, and I gotta tell you guys, I’ve been dying to talk to someone about this.
I don’t know about you, but I’ve been struggling with how much his death has been weighing on me. Thinking about how strange it is to cry over someone you’ve never met. Even now as I’m writing this, tears are trickling down my face, and I’m not sure why.
I can’t really talk about this at my work; I’m afraid my coworkers will make fun of me for taking it so seriously. I tried talking about it with my fiance, but he doesn’t really get my fascination with Hollywood actors. And I can’t really talk about it with my family because they weren’t big fans of the show, and they’ll ask why it’s bothering me so much.
Maybe some of you can relate.
We’ve lost a lot of notable celebrities in recent years. Betty White. Sean Connery. Christopher Plummer. Prince. Lisa Marie Presley. Aaron Carter. Michael Gambon. David McCallum. Bob Barker (got as close as he could to 100 without going over). Sinead O’Conner. Tony Bennet. Tina Turner. Jimmy Buffet. Raquel Welch. Bob Saget. Robbie Coltrane. Leslie Jordan.
And for all of them, I felt sadness, regret, appreciation of their talent and hard work, and gratitude for the artistic expression they were able to give to the world during their lifetime, while being reminded of the brutal truth that death is the great equalizer and that it’s coming for me, no matter how hard I try to ignore it.
So what is it about Matthew Perry’s death that’s hitting me so hard this time?
It doesn’t help that there are so many contrary opinions on the Internet right now. About how people are feeling about his death, and about how people *should* be feeling about it.
Some say that losing Matthew Perry *was* like losing a ‘Friend’, and that in an odd way, it’s okay to grieve. Others are critical about the intensity of the media scrutiny covering his death, and are stating that Matthew Perry as a person and human being doesn’t deserve for his life and death to be gobbled up en masse on the altar of Public Consumption (something to be said about that).
But the algorithms have really been pushing content about his death onto all my social media platforms, so it’s hard to escape. I’ve thought more about Matthew Perry and his life in the past week than I have since I discovered Friends. And the more content I see, the more conflicted I feel. The more I see, the more I want to talk about it, and then the guilt creeps in about how I could possibly have such conflicted feelings about someone I’ve never met.
With all of this ‘noise’ surrounding the issue, I again find myself asking; what about Matthew Perry (or maybe I should be saying Chandler Bing)’s death is tugging at my heart so much? Why does this feel so important to me? Why do I feel this sad about a person I rarely thought about until he was gone? And when and how is it “okay” to feel sad? When is it appropriate to feel grief? How do I feel these confusing feelings without diminishing the very real and very intense grief of others suffering tragedies much deeper than that of a distant celebrity?
The concept and phenomenon of grief has been on my mind in recent months, even before Matthew Perry’s death. I started volunteering at a local grief center, and what they’ve taught me is that grief is what you feel when you lose something important to you, and there is no right or wrong circumstance to feel it. It could be a parent, brother, cousin, dog, job, dream, ability, whatever the case, the point is that it was something important to you.
Over the past week, people have been sharing stories about why Friends was important to them. They’ve been talking about how Friends was there for them during a dark period of their life, and how the laughter and the escapism of the show allowed them to get through something painful and challenging. Maybe you have a story like that too.
For me, my story started in 2015, 2016, when I first discovered Friends, and hands down, I watched it because I wanted to see Chandler. Not only was he the funniest character (and the best looking of the bunch, and that is a hill I will die on :P) he was incredibly intelligent in the way he manipulated comedy. He portrayed the awkwardness and internal struggle we all feel with such effortless wit. I identified so well with it because I know I personally have also been hopeless, awkward, and desperate for love, and despite how small a world it is, I have never run into Beyonce, and you know what? Sometimes gum really IS perfection.
But more than just appreciating Matthew Perry’s talents and the character of Chandler, Friends was a safe place for me to retreat during the chaos and the storm that was that chapter of my life. I distinctly remember one night, when my marriage (and my life in general) was in a really dark and painful place, I had a moment of clarity where I realized exactly how depressed and unhappy I was, and the floodgates of my own grief over the life I thought I was going to have but didn’t came crashing down.
Somehow, in the midst of my heartbreak, I knew that the thing I needed to self-soothe was to pull my mattress out to the living room and park it in front of the TV so I could play Friends in the background while I cried. Somehow I knew that it was the only thing that felt safe and comfortable enough for me to relax and go to sleep. And I did that more nights than I would like to admit.
When I think about those nights, and think about how much laughter and comfort Friends brought to me, and to so many countless others, I’m reminded of what Maya Angelou said, that “....people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
This quote feels like I’ve been given permission to feel and deal with this, even though it may not make sense to others, or even to myself.
And while I know I have permission to feel the feels, I still find myself conflicted about what exactly it is that I’m feeling. Who am I grieving, Matthew or Chandler? What am I grieving, the loss of a jokester, or something else entirely?
As I look back on other celebrity deaths, the only other death that has hit me this hard is Robin Williams. He was truly a gem, a one-of-a-kind, a very unique presence of laughter and profundity in this rather crazy world we live in. In many ways, it felt like any role that Robin played, he just played himself. While his characters may have had different names, such as Daniel Hillard, Adrian Cronauer, the Genie, Peter Pan, John Keating, or Teddy Roosevelt, he was basically just doing his thing as Robin Williams. And what a gift that was.
Is that the same with Matthew Perry? Was he that much different than Chandler, or did he show up and just do his Matthew Perry thing? At what point do we grieve the person instead of the character?
Bottom line, Chandler isn’t real, and despite how much of himself Matthew Perry poured into Chandler, he is separate and distinct no matter how hard to distinguish between the two. But what we didn’t see in Chandler that we know to be true with Matthew was his struggle with drugs and alcohol. We know this to be true because he told us.
In a world where our focus is on how many likes we get on Facebook and how many different Instagram filters we can try out, Matthew was willing to talk about the big ugly. He was willing to go to a place full of judgment and stigma; what it means to be an addict. While I personally do not struggle with an addiction to drugs or alcohol, as a seeker of my own authenticity, I recognize Matthew Perry is a role model for me on how to be honest, how to be vulnerable, and that I and everyone around me need each other, and that we need to be brave enough to ask for help when we’re drowning and can’t find our way.
However, perhaps you know and love someone who’s an addict. Perhaps you’ve watched someone like Matthew Perry slowly destroy themself to a mental illness that is so difficult to understand and impossible not to get angry about. Perhaps you’re afraid of that fateful day, the fateful phone call, where your loved one is found dead because of this monster they couldn’t escape.
(If you are struggling, know that there is hope, and that you’re not alone. <3 If you ever need someone to talk to, I’ll be there for you, please reach out. I’m only a Facebook message, email, text, or phone call away. If you’re not comfortable with that, I totally understand, but still, please talk to someone. No one should go through this alone.** )
As of this writing, Matthew Perry’s cause of death is inconclusive, pending the toxicology report. Given his history of substance abuse, I’m sure they want to rule out death by overdose. I hope that’s not the case, that he simply had a heart attack in his hot tub. After battling his addictions for multiple decades, his heart probably couldn’t handle it anymore, even if he was clean and sober. Another dark and ugly truth about addition; it destroys you, mind, body, and soul. While addiction probably took him all too soon, I hope that, in a strange way, he was able to beat his addiction enough to make it out alive (pun intended). Very few who struggle with addiction are so lucky.
Knowing this, I am grateful to know that Matthew Perry was able to get clean and sober, and was living his best life. I’m grateful to know that he represents a beacon of hope for people struggling with addiction that they can overcome.
I’m grateful that the Friends cast was able to get together for the reunion.
And I’m grateful that Matthew was able to publish his memoir before he died. I wonder if, deep down, Matthew knew he was on borrowed time, and wanted to speak up and reach out as much as he could before it was too late.
I have his autobiography (now biography), but haven’t read it yet. I know someday I will, but right now, it feels a little too painful, like reading the biography of a loved one that I’m not ready to let go of yet.
However, despite not reading the book, I know Matthew was quoted with saying the following:
“When I die, I know people will talk about Friends, Friends, Friends. And I’m glad of that, happy I’ve done some solid work as an actor, as well as given people multiple chances to make fun of my struggles on the world wide web…
But when I die, as far as my so-called accomplishments go, it would be nice if Friends were listed far behind the things I did to try to help other people.
I know it won’t happen, but it would be nice.”
While I know these words are spoke too little and too late, I hope you know Mr. Perry, that by playing Chandler, by doing this ‘solid work as an actor’, by bringing this awkward, goofy, lovable character to life, you *did* help people.
You gave a voice and a role model to people who struggle to fit in, who use humor to cope with how insecure and uncomfortable we feel, and that even the Chandler Bings of the world can be fighting demons we know nothing about, and how important it is to always always always be kind.
And that, because you were Chandler Bing, you were able to step up in courage as Matthew Perry?
Goodbye, Matthew. And thank you. Thank you for the laughs. You helped out more people than you will ever know.
