Right after Kelly Preston died in 2020, John Travolta refused to betray the memory of his beloved spouse by falling in love with someone new.
But now, buddies say that the Pulp Fiction star, who’s rocking everyday living as a single father of two, may finally be completely ready to include to the internet pages of his love tale with an additional female.
Maintain reading to study a lot more about Travolta’s adore daily life!
Hollywood legend John Travolta, 69, has been solitary given that his spouse, Kelly Preston, 57, died of cancer in 2020.
The two, who shared three children, have been remarkably candid about their enjoy, and since her reduction, the shadow of her absence has been profound on Travolta, who proceeds to voice his enduring grief on social media.
Only 11 a long time just before Preston died, The Hairspray star was drowning in heartache when Jett, the firstborn child he shared with Preston, died at only 16 in 2009.
Introducing to the immeasurable agony of losing a son and his adored wife, he then lost shut pals and co-stars Olivia Newton-John in August 2022, and Kirstie Alley in December 2022.
Right after all that, it is not surprising he wished to guard his coronary heart.
Vow of celibacy
Right after he shed his wife, resources shut to the star of Grease declare that he to begin with swore off dating, indicating that a foreseeable future connection would “be a betrayal of Preston’s memory.”
“John however considers himself married and claims he will continue to be loyal to Kelly till the working day he dies. It is palms off when it arrives to dating. It is sad, but he’s fundamentally taken a vow of celibacy for the rest of his life.” The close friend proceeds, “He talks about Kelly continuously. Their life ended up so intertwined, it’s pretty really hard for him to go on.”
Searching for adore
But lately, rumors have been swirling that the Saturday Night time Fever star is completely ready to find adore all over again.
According to a report by Radar On the internet, the man who wowed audiences with his mad dance moves, is again on the “prowl.”
“John just necessary to feel completely ready, and now he is,” statements the resource. “He knows Kelly would not want him to shell out the rest of his daily life by itself, so he’s lastly allowing for buddies to line him up with dates.”
But that is not all, he’s so completely ready that he’s also considering a matchmaker!
“He’s not asking for considerably, just that she be type, heat, gracious, amusing, and spontaneous,” the insider stated. “And becoming attractive would not hurt.”
John Travolta is this sort of a loving, amusing and gifted male and he deserves to uncover appreciate again. We search forward to following him on his journey!
What do you assume of this tale? Be sure to share your remarks and then share this story so we can listen to what other folks have to say!
If you savored this update on John Travolta’s adore existence, you are going to seriously like the story on his sweet Instagram tribute to his son Ben.
My Neighbors Left a Note That Shattered My Heart — My Granddaughter Discovered It and Gave Them a Learning Experience
The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.
“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…
Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.
“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”
As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.
“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.
That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”
The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.
A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.
“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”
I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.
The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.
The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.
I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.
A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”
It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.
“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”
I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”
I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”
But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.
Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.
But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.
The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.
Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.
The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.
I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”
That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.
As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”
There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”
I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”
“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”
“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”
“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.
As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.
Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.
One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.
“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.
As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”
I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.
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