Over the weekend I found myself ‘tearing up’ over the news that Matthew Perry had died, aged not much older than my wife and I. I had to explain to my soon-to-be 18-year-old son why I felt emotional about ‘losing someone’ I had never met.

I felt I had lost a genuine ‘Friend’.

I explained that, like many in my generation who came of age or were young adults in the late 1990s and early 2000s, Matthew Perry and his character, Chandler, along with the whole crew of Friends – Rachel, Ross, Monica, Joey and Phoebe – had consumed copious amounts of ‘happy time’ in our lives, every week, for close to a decade.

Friends was more than just a sitcom, it was a weekly ritual with friends. It became a reflection of an entire generation’s experiences, struggles, and friendships. A cultural phenomenon that brought people together, provided laughter, and offered life lessons, with hundreds of quotable quotes that were repeated for years or decades. For many of us, it was a source of comfort, entertainment, and a mirror to our own lives.

Matthew Perry’s character, Chandler, was a standout. His unique blend of humour and quirky vulnerability resonated with many viewers, including me. Chandler’s struggles with commitment and his sarcastic sense of humour made him relatable. He taught us that it’s okay to be flawed and vulnerable while still being a loyal and caring friend. His portrayal of Chandler was a testament to his acting prowess, as he could seamlessly shift between comedy and moments of genuine emotion.

Perry’s candid memoir, ‘Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing’ reveals a harrowing history of addiction and struggle. His battles with addiction, multiple rehab stints, and health complications are staggering, leaving one in awe that he survived. The memoir provides a sobering context for the vulnerability displayed by the character he portrayed on screen.

Perry recounts his ‘bottom’, a moment driven by addiction, where he reached a point of desperation. It’s a moment that many addicts experience where they seek lasting help. In the midst of this darkness, something extraordinary happens. As he prays for help, he encounters a transformative, otherworldly experience. A golden light envelopes him and he feels euphoric, safe, and accepted. It’s a moment of transcendence, a profound connection with something beyond the self.

This experience leaves Perry forever changed. He finds sobriety, but it’s not just about staying clean; it’s about seeking the truth and a deeper connection, even with God.

His openness to this transcendent experience led to a renewed sense of purpose, hope, and a desire to help others on their journey to recovery.

The Chandler character in Friends mirrors this journey. He used humour as a defense mechanism to hide his insecurities and fear of commitment. Beneath the humour, he was deeply vulnerable. He struggled with his past, his parents’ divorce, and his emotional barriers. However, it was through this vulnerability that he connected with his friends, found his purpose in relationships, and experienced the transfigurative nature of love.

In many ways, Chandler’s journey and Matthew Perry’s real-life experience parallel the biblical principles of compassion, self-discovery, and the transcendent. Chandler’s character growth exemplified the power of vulnerability in forming deeper connections with others, finding a sense of purpose, and experiencing love’s transformative nature.

Matthew Perry’s memoir and Chandler’s character provide a poignant reminder that vulnerability can be a gateway to profound human experiences, personal growth, and a connection with the transcendent. It’s a testament to the enduring power of storytelling, both on and off the screen, to touch our lives and inspire us to seek the light even in our darkest moments.

Rest in Peace, Matthew Perry. I hope we might meet one day in Eternity.