The One Where We Lost a Friend: Remembering Matthew Perry

If my life had a soundtrack, it would be “Friends.” Not just the theme song– the entire show. Ever since the day I turned it on for the first time, it’s been like I never really turned it off. 

Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, Joey, Chandler and Ross have been there for me since that very first day I hit play on Season 1, Episode 1. No matter how many times I watch it, I will always laugh, cry and celebrate with the characters that have come to be like true friends to me over the years. 

They took me from a place of seemingly endless struggle and darkness and showed me a light at the end of what appeared to be a never-ending tunnel. They were the friends I never had when I really needed a support system and always felt perpetually lost and alone. 

Out of all the friends, I have always identified with Chandler the most. Always armed with a joke or sarcastic remark, he was a hopeless romantic, forever steadfast in his love for his friends and caring beyond words. Oftentimes it was like looking in a mirror. 

It is without question, though, that the comfort Chandler has brought me these past years is owed entirely to the all-encompassing genius that was Matthew Perry. 

For as long as Chandler Bing has been in my life, so too has Matthew Perry. In fact, Matthew can be quoted in his memoir, “Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing,” that he considered Chandler and himself to be one and the same. Many of his friends did too; by the time he auditioned for the role, he had memorized the lines so well he didn’t hold a script for all three consecutive auditions.

Chandler is my friend– Matthew was, in a way, my friend, too. 

Thus, it would come as no surprise that when he died unexpectedly on Oct. 28, 2023, I simply couldn’t believe it was true. Especially not when my mom showed me the first post talking about it. 

I thought it was a joke and took to Google immediately. I was only able to type in “matthew perf” before hitting search due to the frantic shaking of my hands, expecting to see that it was just a rumor. There was even a sigh of relief already prepared in my lungs– certainly this isn’t true; whoever started spreading this just has a sick sense of humor. 

That frenzied mistype of his name haunts my Google history now. 

The moment I saw the articles and my brain processed the proof of his passing, I burst into tears and was rendered inconsolable for the rest of the night. I cried myself to sleep in my mom’s arms– it was the worst night of sleep I’ve ever had. Every morning I hope that this was all a nightmare, but then reality swoops in for a solid gut punch and the tears start all over again. 

In fact, I haven’t stopped crying since. I’m willing to bet my entire life savings that I’ve cried more these past few days than I have in the past year. Every post, whether it be a tribute from fellow fans, sweet sentiments from his friends, or statements from his family, always causes me to cry again. I’ve always been embarrassed to cry in front of others, but lately I haven’t been able to find it in me to care. 

It is the strangest kind of grief to mourn this deeply for someone I never met. I would even consider it polarizing; in reality I did not know him, but through his seamless portrayal of Chandler it truly feels like I did. 

It must all sound insanely dramatic from an outsider’s point of view, but it feels like I’ve suddenly lost my oldest and dearest friend in the most painful way imaginable. 

Matthew Perry’s story is one of perseverance, bravery and drive. His open battle with addiction is something that could have been the end of his story years ago, but he took it and molded it into a story of rising above and overcoming by working tirelessly to get sober. 

In that same vein, his accolades go beyond those he achieved while on “Friends” and in films such as “The Whole Nine Yards” and “Fools Rush In.” 

After 15 check-ins to rehab, he created the Perry House in Malibu by turning his old home into a sober living center for men dealing with addiction. 

While he was on his book tour in November 2022, he was asked how he wanted to be remembered. Though he did mention “Friends” and how proud he was of the accomplishments they achieved, it was his philanthropic efforts that he prominently cited.

“... The best thing about me is that if an alcoholic or drug addict comes up to me and says, ‘Will you help me?’ I will always say, ‘Yes. I know how to do that. I will do that for you, even if I can’t always do it for myself.’ So I do that, whenever I can.” he said.

For people like me, though, I would consider his performance as Chandler Bing on “Friends” to be an extension of the philanthropic work he did in his real life. 

The show has been my safe haven from the very beginning. Chandler has been my very best friend.

Whenever I’m in need of comfort, a good laugh, or just something to turn on for background noise so I can focus on schoolwork, “Friends” is always what I seek out. I can quote a solid 75% of the show and yet I still laugh at every joke and cry every time I watch the finale. 

I’ve been asked multiple times why I watch the finale episode and then immediately begin Season 1, Episode 1; I always say it’s because the only way I can feel better after the emotional turmoil of the finale… is by watching “Friends!”

At this time, only two days after his passing, the only way I can even attempt to alleviate these detrimental feelings is to write. Watching the show is proving to be just a little too difficult. I must have written out the same sentiments over and over by now on various platforms because the heartbreak I feel won’t go away. Not yet at least. 

I know it will soothe over time. By the time you’re reading this article, I will have stopped crying multiple times a day. By the time I’ve finished writing it, he will have been laid to rest and seeing his name won’t make me tear up. 

But I can promise you that on the inside, I still feel like a part of me is gone. 

I didn’t think I’d be living in a world without him this soon. 

Matthew, I miss you dearly. I’m so glad you’re at peace now, but this is hard. 

My heart still feels like it’s in a million pieces. I’m glad you’re free of all the pain you felt here and that you’re now rejoicing with God. 

I’m selfish in my devastation and wish more than anything that you were still here. I don’t think I’ll stop missing you until I see you in Heaven, where I know you’re already making everybody laugh– save a few jokes for when I get there, okay?