I admit. Sitting here this morn I’m still a little rattled by the death of Matthew Perry. For those not a fan, Perry was ⅙ of the infamous “Friends” cast. He was known for his timely wit, not to mention the huge unveiled heart, underneath. For those of us who ventured further into adulthood with the hit series, there was just something special about each of these actors, as they oft awkwardly walked through all sorts of drama, but made you laugh at seemingly every step in between.
While Perry wasn’t technically my friend, I felt like I could relate.
That goes for me. And for more.
Perry wasn’t known for being any kind of saint. In fact, in his less than year old autobiography, Friends, Lovers and the Big Terrible Thing, he is rawly honest about his so-called sins more than sainthood. As reviewed by Google Books:
“In an extraordinary story that only he could tell – and in the heartfelt, hilarious, and warmly familiar way only he could tell it – Matthew Perry lays bare the fractured family that raised him (and also left him to his own devices), the desire for recognition that drove him to fame, and the void inside him that could not be filled even by his greatest dreams coming true. But he also details the peace he’s found in sobriety and how he feels about the ubiquity of Friends, sharing stories about his castmates and other stars he met along the way. Frank, self-aware, and with his trademark humour, Perry vividly depicts his lifelong battle with addiction and what fuelled it despite seemingly having it all.”
Perry struggled.
Perry was human.
Perry was, therefore, just like us. None of us, friends, are saints. We fit far easier in the sinners category. God love us.
When a life ends at an early age, it doesn’t make sense. That’s one of those things that I just have to trust the good Lord with, as it’s heartbreaking and hurtful and so #$&*@!! confusing. But I trust He will always know more than me. I plan to have a conversation with Him about that sometime.
But for now what I know is this…
Lord, you’ve got my attention.
We fight about all sorts of things on this planet. We justify judgment, arrogance, bigotry and more. We even find good reasons for it.
We validate withholding forgiveness, not listening, and not loving our neighbor well. We feel like we get to choose which neighbors we love, somehow seeing ourselves exempt from one of life’s wisest commandments.
The beauty within the tragedy is that these are moments when we are rattled, that are laced with the opportunity to do better…
… to love… forgive… ask for forgiveness… listen… restore the relationship… give thanks… and so much more…
Rest in peace, Matthew Perry. You are loved and respected by me and many. You were indeed our friend.
May we be better and do better because of you.
Soberly…
AR