I can't believe Jonah has gone. I can't believe we have to farewell another young All Black, after the death of Jerry Collins earlier this year.
It has hit me hard and made me think about our mortality. We expect as the years go on, and as we get older, things are going to happen but Jonah was only 40. Jerry was only 34.
We all knew Jonah was unwell but there was never any indication we should be concerned. The last couple of times I spoke to him he talked openly about his disease and dialysis and seemed on top of it. He was such a colossus as a player and person I almost expected him to live forever. It's surreal.
The news made me think about when I became an All Black. I had just watched Jonah run all over the world at the 1995 World Cup and was brought into the team for the end-of-year tour of France.
To see him in the same changing room, to train with him, to have him run on to passes I threw out, gave me a feeling of invincibility. It was such a comfort to me as a young All Black that I had this superstar alongside me, and it helped my own career.
Jonah clearly became the focus of opposition teams, and for good reason given his pace and what he could do on a field, but it took the pressure and attention away from 14 other players.
People say All Blacks, when they pull on the jersey, have an invincibility about them. I don't entirely believe that - and the All Blacks have been beaten often enough to back that up. We have this unique history and as All Blacks we're there purely to enhance and protect the jersey. Jonah did so much more.
Jonah Lomu is tackled by Marshall during a Super 12 rugby match between the Hurricanes and the Crusaders in 2001. Photo / Getty Images
He was instrumental in the game turning professional because he put rugby on the global map in 1995. I was paid more to play on the France tour than I had earned in four years in the workforce, but it was never about the money for me. I would have paid anyone to play one test for the All Blacks and Jonah was the same.
Some incredible opportunities came his way as the game's biggest star but it didn't change him, and he was happy to share his good fortune.
He was sponsored by McDonald's but was always happy enough to walk into one of their restaurants and come out with as many burgers as he could carry. He was friendly with a lot of music and movie celebrities and would invite us to meet the likes of Mariah Carey and Cuba Gooding Jnr or go to one of their concerts.
He wasn't the flashiest superstar, he was just Jonah. There were these two sides to him but celebrity and stardom didn't change him.
He was equally happy to play cricket in the hotel corridors on tour or play PlayStation or table tennis. There might have been a sense that he was unapproachable, but he always had time for people. For anyone.
He could chat for hours. Often we would sit down and talk, Jonah with a Coke and me with a coffee. He loved cars, music, TV and movies and he would never be distracted from our conversation.
He could hold court at the back of the bus, too. At times the likes of Andrew Mehrtens, Taine Randell and I would say he was telling porkies. Some of his stories probably were, but it was hard to tell because a couple of his most far-fetched ones turned out to be true.
Unfortunately, not everyone saw that side of Jonah. Many thought of him as shy and someone of limited vocabulary but he had a simple approach to the All Blacks. For him, it was all about the silver fern on his chest. He didn't need to go into depth about it.
He changed rugby and he changed me.
I will miss Jonah as I miss Jerry. They were taken too soon.
