There are people, who, when you meet them, you feel an instant connection with, a click, like jigsaw pieces fitting together. Johan was one of those people. He could walk into a room full of strangers and half an hour later they would all be his friends. When I first met him his first words were, ‘I need a cigarette. Do you like Salmon quiche?’ And that was it, I never looked back. He used to call me at work, and if I was away from my desk I’d find someone who’d never met him, on the phone, deep in conversation, laughing like they’d known each other for ages. Everyone asked after him, 'How’s he doing?' 'Is he okay?' Everyone cared about Johan. My friend Johan had nothing and everything; he was the best friend I ever had: good looking; bright; funny; good cook; dreadful timekeeper; caring; simple; complex; annoying; charming; vulnerable; stubborn; passionate. There was never a dull moment with Johan around. Eventually I stopped thinking of him as just my friend, he was family. He was Shaun's partner. He was like a son to Barbara. He was like a brother to me. He was unique, unforgettable, and utterly irreplaceable. The sort of things that made Johan happy were the sort of things you or I might take for granted. He didn’t have much and he didn’t ask for much, so when he got something unexpected, it made his day. A potted plant; a pullover, being with his friends or cooking meals for Barbara. He loved having someone or something to care for. He got very wet in the rain once, so I bought him a waterproof jacket he hadn’t asked for. It made him cry. But for someone whose worldly possessions fitted into three bags he was the happiest person I ever met. He had his problems. I don’t think he ever stopped running away from his past. He came to this country in 2002, looking for work, and for stability, and ended up a victim of bureaucracy. His application to remain here, which should have taken three months, eventually took four years, political pressure, and a trip back to South Africa to sort out. We all have those moments, when you can’t sleep, when you can’t stop thinking about something. With Johan, it was when he was alone. ‘I think too much’ he used to say. He needed to be with people; we kept him safe and sheltered him from the shadows of his past. When he was alone, that’s when his personal demons came back to haunt him. I think he was happiest last year, when he started working for Homebase, he grumbled about it sometimes, the early starts, annoying customers, but the main thing is that he was with people he liked all day. There wasn’t time to be alone. He was earning money. He gave some of his wages to charity. He joined a gym. ‘I never knew I could feel this good’ he said to me. He used to bounce into rooms, so full of energy, wanting to share his day with you. His proudest moment was when Heidi asked him to be godfather to Jack. Again when something made him happy, he wanted to share it with everyone. A piece of music; a film; a video of Jack, chocolate brownies. In February this year, he had to face the Home Office again. Two weeks off work worrying about his future and what might happen, and of course, his demons came back to haunt him. I’m not going to dwell on what happened. But no matter how low he got, there were always moments when the real Johan shone, a gleam of sunlight though the clouds, and you could almost forget the difficulties he faced. He loved Shaun, and he loved Barbara and he loved me. He’d found a new family. When he spoke of home, he meant Barbara and Shaun. And he rang me every day, two or three times a day sometimes to tell me about the day he was having. And he rarely ended a phone call without saying he loved you. He said it all the time. It wasn’t just words with Johan. He meant it. We were always there for him when he fell. I told him once, before he moved up here. ‘I will not let you fall. But if you do. I’ll always be there to pick you up.’ I picked him up so many times. This time, Johan, I’m so sorry, but I can’t. Shaun said to me the other day. ‘I keep thinking about where he is now.’ I hope he’s beyond all the fear, and the pain and the sickness. I hope wherever he is, he’s with his Mum, he wanted to see her again so much, maybe he’s somewhere looking down at us here, grinning that grin of his, and saying, ‘What’s going on? Why are all these people here?’ We’re all here because we love you Johan, and we always will.