This might be plagiarism, but occasionally it is the only way to express a situation so tragic that the circumstances demand it. Something that should be explained over a gentle rendition of Chopin’s mournful 4th prelude in the background. There is a Korean word, “Han”.

Neil Martin, a friend of mine, of Andy, and best friend of Amanda, died this week aged 29 after taking an overdose in his aunt’s house in Brighton. He was found lying peacefully on his bed with a magazine, with a gentle smile on his face. He had suffered perpetual and severe depression all of his life and had sought help again and again from everywhere he could. After several suicide attempts, he finally succeeded in private. For Amanda, is it the 2nd close friend to have committed suicide within a year or so. Our love, thoughts and prayers are with his family tonight. There are no words we can say that will comfort them in such a dark and lonely hour. All we can do is stand with them.

It’s rare to meet such a gentle soul. He was hilariously funny but so very sensitive. One of the few gay guys i thought flirting with was hilarious. A massively talented musician and engineer who struggled all his life from a tumultuous family background, self-medication with drugs, and a whole liturgy of medicines and programs to relieve the emptiness. Most of all, it was him who brought Amanda through our break up – his love, kindness and wonderful humour were there when my spirit wasn’t brave enough to face up to my own culpability when i was an absent friend as well as being an absent boyfriend. The happiest time of his life was when Amanda was stealing food for him when he didn’t have any money, and when he moved in with her and Andy in Ealing. They were a blessing in each other’s lives. I truly believe that the only reason we had more time than we should have with Neil is because of the blessing of Amanda in his life. She brought out his smile when he thought no-one could.

My most prominent memory of Neil was helping him to prepare some material for his radio presenter portfolio, and he was genuinely touched someone would go out of the way to help him for no real reason other than they wanted to help him. I was told he admired me. I don’t know why that was the case and probably won’t ever know, but i never told him what he should have been told – that the people he loved were proud of him, loved him and admired him too. His talent, and his strength throughout all his struggles in the consuming darkness, and his incredible compassion and love were only matched inversely by his simple desire to feel like he had a home and was loved. Something he couldn’t feel no matter how hard he tried or whatever medication he took.

There is no literal English translation of “Han”. It’s a state of mind. Of soul, more than anything. Loosely translated, it means a terrible sorrow and anger that grow from the accumulated experiences of oppression. Han is a deep sadness. A sadness so deep that no tears will come. A sadness so deep that you feel nothing, fear nothing. Han is a state of mind, of soul. A sadness that eats you up. And yet there’s still hope.

Although the word is frequently and commonly used by Koreans, the condition it describes is taken quite seriously. When people die of Han, it is called dying of hwabyong, a disease of frustration and rage following misfortune. Some are born with a broken heart, and live with one that never mends. Some are born with a layer of skin less than everyone else and they go through their life deeply believing they were not meant to be here.

The truth is that many people are born with depression and other illnesses for no fault of their own other than their heritage. If we can pass on things genetically (e.g. cancer, heart disease, height etc) then it follows that emotional and spiritual problems are also passed on. There’s nothing wrong with us, it’s just in the bloodline and needs to be broken. We did nothing wrong, we’re not defective, it’s no-one’s fault and we didn’t deserve it. We struggle with emotional emptiness and spiritual despair without any discernable reason for the severity. Our parents, their parents, and other people on the branches of the tree have it and it’s run down the generations to us.

There will never have been enough time we could have spent with those who we’ve lost, never enough words to express the sadness, and always so much more that we feel we could have done. It can feel like it will never end, that it was a complete surprise, and we can be tempted to give up.

The depth of our grief is because of the intensity of our love, and it is love that shines out of us so brightly now that it blinds us from its chaotic brilliance. It is the love that we feel that overwhelms us and floods everything. But has no end and knows no boundaries. Our love for them will always be there and no darkness can break it or severe it. We loved them then, we love them now, and we will always love them. After we have gone, our love will remain and be passed on amongst us and between us. Every memory is pieced together with the love we felt, and still feel. It will never leave, be lost, tire or falter. For every day we live from now is another spent more richly because of their blessing on our life than nothing can take away, The body may be gone, but we carry their heart in every one of us whose lives they touched, even in the smallest of ways.

Our deep and everlasting love means we must redouble our efforts to reach out to those around who are alone. We must look for those we have missed and overlooked – those who may be in the same situation right now and be maintaining a totally different front despite their deepening despair. We need to look harder and longer; go the extra mile to put a blanket around those out in the cold and bring them inside. We must let that light of love bursting through us to shine violently into the lives of those who need it rather than trying to control it and snuff it out so we can’t feel it. Now is a time to find the lost, be there in the darkness with them, and make a covenant with ourselves to work harder and love deeper than before, to more and more around us so they will live on forever too.

We celebrate the lives and memories of those we loved by letting that love run amok without restriction or limit. We have to give thanks and be grateful that are we still able, now, at this moment, to reach out and tell others they are loved, because we may not be able to someday. We get angry because we love, we sacrifice because we love and we grieve because we love. We can stand in darkness and not fear it; we may curse and not mean it; but we will stand here naked and love because we feel it.

One of Neil’s favourite quotes on his Facebook page exemplifies everything.

“You might not see the cage until you’re free.”

Rest in peace, my gentle, gentle friend. May the Father bring you home so you will know His love you never got to experience in this place. He knew you before you were born, made every hair on your head, put the dreams in your heart, and saw everything that happened. He saw the pain, the tears, the despair and all the love in your heart bursting, wanting to come out. He was with you in the darkness, when you laughed, and He was there when you put each pill in your mouth, with His heart breaking with you as He held your hand next to you on that bed. And He knows your heart, and those around you that loved you. He knew the love inside you, and the tragedy of the darkness that never ended, because He wanted to lift you from it. There is no pit so deep that His love can’t reach you, no black so dark that He can’t find you, and no despair deep enough that could evade Him. He knows what you went though. And He knows you now, as you go to be with Him once more and wait for us.

Rest in peace, my gentle, gentle friend.