Like most Americans, I woke up on New Year’s Day hopeful for a new beginning, thankful to bid adieu to a year that came up short for so many of us. New Year’s Eve was quiet for my family — as it generally tends to be — two adults nursing champagne by the television set, two kids sipping on sparkling grape juice, and one dog wondering why everyone is up past 9 p.m. We welcomed 2009 with sleepy fanfare before heading to bed.
My desire for a different kind of year was shared by others. One friend said, “2008 can’t leave soon enough.” It’s an odd thing to wish away time as if an imaginary delete button could erase a moment, an experience or, yes, a year.
Then, after feeling somewhat giddy over the prospect of all things new and different, I heard Jett Travolta had died. Immediately, I thought of what John Travolta and Kelly Preston would give to have time back.
I didn’t know Jett, nor have I ever met his celebrity parents, who call Marion County home. Yet, like many in our community, I feel like I know them. I’m not sure why.
Does knowing what John orders at Tony’s Sushi count for kinship? Can you form an instant bond with a stranger when you hear of Kelly’s kindness to a neighbor whom you know? Probably not, but it strips away the Hollywood veneer to reveal something deeper. These are real people. Good people who love one another, their children and their community. And, through the emotional fog of shock and sadness in a year that has just begun, we grieve for loving parents who have suffered an unbearable loss.
You can see in pictures of Jett that he was loved and adored by his family. I’m particularly drawn to the photo of Kelly and Jett walking side by side on a Hawaiian beach, a teenage son protectively hugging his petite mother. And the picture of John resting on Jett’s shoulder is simply beautiful. These photos tell me this was a young man — a gentle boy facing his share of life’s challenges — who knew the best way to soothe a parent’s worry is with a son’s reassuring embrace.
In a statement released by John and Kelly, they noted being “heartbroken that their time with Jett was so brief.” And it was. Yet, from what I’ve read and seen, they made the most of every minute with their extraordinary son. A child named after his father’s love of flying. A teenager who knew the value of a really good hug. A young man who welcomed a new year as fireworks touched the heavens — like that of Jett’s beloved flights with his dad.
John, Kelly, Jett and Ella didn’t waste a minute honoring their time with and love for each other. Neither should we. Maybe some years can’t leave too soon, but those we love sometimes do, taking flight and touching the heavens.
