I was saddened to hear Friday's news that John Travolta's and Kelly Preston's 16 year old son died unexpectedly on New Year's Day.
I haven't particularly followed John Travolta's career, and was only vaguely aware that he even had a son until this happened. (He and his wife also have an 8 year old daughter, Ella). Because John Travolta is in a sense familiar to me, the news of this tragedy is striking, although really any 16 year old dying is a tragedy no matter how you slice it. There are many questions and details (that frankly are none of the public's business, and hopefully will not be released), but to me it's just sad.
Losing a dear person rips your heart out, whether you're famous and on top of the world or a nobody. The bleeding doesn't stop. There is nothing to say -- it just seems unbearable, and yet you must go on.
We live and breathe in this world, and it seems like nothing will change, that it will go on forever, but the reality is that there is nothing solid in this life. We all die. And then?
My deepest condolences go to John, Kelly, and Ella, and the family and friends of Jett. May Jett rest in peace.