So Sad

I know the recent death of John Travolta's son Jett is really none of my business, but it's been bothering me more than just the, "Oh, how sad for their family," level that it should be.

I can't imagine the pain, horror, and torture that must go along with burying a child. I can't, and for the most part, I don't. I pretend it's an impossibility, because I don't think I could function otherwise. One of my friends from high school was killed in a car crash the 4th of July after we graduated, and I don't know how her parents survived. I was terrified of running into her mother while I was pregnant with The Boy, because the thought of her seeing me and knowing she'd never be a grandmother drove me a little crazy with guilt.

I spent three of my four years of college watching my best-friend-and-roommate's sister die of a brain tumor, finally succumbing when she was 26. Again, I don't know how her parents survived.

I don't know the Travoltas, but I don't know how they will survive. And maybe it's wrong, but it makes me even more sad to think that the boy/young man in these pictures--who my little-kid self was head-over-heels in love with--had no idea of the tragedy he would face when 2008 rolled over to 2009.





So, John Travolta, even though we've never met and you have no idea that I exist, I am very sad for you and your family, and very, very sorry for your loss.