John Travolta recently showed up at a big event in California with his oldest child. Like before, people were talking about which parent she looks like more.
On October 19, 2024, John Travolta caught the attention of many when he attended The Fourth Annual Academy Museum Gala with his daughter, Ella Bleu Travolta. Photos of the pair had people debating whether Ella looks more like her late mother, Kelly Preston, or her father.
John Travolta recently attended a big event in Los Angeles with his oldest child. The two posed together for red carpet photos, with Ella linking her arm through her father’s as they smiled for the cameras.
After their photos were shared on social media, many people commented on how much Ella looked like her father. One person wrote, “She is his twin! His beautiful daughter .” Another commenter noted, “All I see is her dad, lol. Like his mini-me.”
Some agreed with the comparisons, saying, “She’s beautiful! She has her dad’s eyes!” Others thought Ella resembled her late mother, Kelly Preston. One comment said, “I see her mom in her. Blessings to them. He seems to be a great father.”
Another user added, “The older she gets, the more she looks like Kelly Preston. What a beautiful young woman. You’ve done well, John. You must be so proud of her.” Someone else observed, “Ella’s resemblance to her mom Kelly is striking; she’s gorgeous!”
For those who had a different opinion, one person remarked, “She is the spitting image of her mom!” Another noted, “I think she is a perfect mix of them both. She is stunning.”
One netizen shifted the focus back to John, saying, “He is such a good man and a good father
When John and Ella appeared at the 2024 Paris Olympics on August 3, fans again noticed their resemblance. They attended to support the USA’s gymnasts, and many commented on how alike they looked.
One observer said, “She looks just like him,” while another remarked, “Look at his beautiful daughter, who is his doppelganger.” A third fan added, “She took his whole face!”
Others praised Ella, with one fan saying, “Wow she is beautiful .” Longtime fans of John, who remembered his role in the 1978 classic “Grease,” noted similarities between him and Ella. One fan said, “She’s John in Grease ,” and another added, “She is his twin from his younger days. Just watched Grease; never realized how handsome he was.”
Some fans also saw a resemblance to Uma Thurman’s character from “Pulp Fiction,” where John co-starred. One observer suggested, “She looks like she can star in Pulp Fiction.”
At the Academy Museum Gala, both wore matching black outfits. John wore a dark blazer, a matching T-shirt, blue jeans, sunglasses, and black shoes. Ella’s outfit featured a sleeveless black cropped top and high-waisted pants, which she paired with a black beret and strappy heels.
The pair sat in the VIP section with other celebrities, cheering for US gymnast Simone Biles during the finals.
In April 2024, Ella debuted her new bob haircut on Instagram, showing off her dark brown locks styled to frame her face. She playfully captioned the photo, “Fresh cut grass.”
My Husband Went on Vacation..
I thought my husband would be there for me when my mom passed away, but instead, he chose a vacation to Hawaii over my grief. Devastated, I faced the funeral alone. But when he returned, he walked into a situation he never expected—a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. I was at work when the doctor’s number flashed on my phone, and somehow, I knew what was coming. My heart sank even before I answered. Mom was gone. Just like that. One minute she was fighting a minor lung infection, and the next… nothing. My world stopped making sense.
I don’t remember much after that. One moment I was sitting in my cubicle, and the next I was home, fumbling with my keys, eyes blurred with tears. John’s car was in the driveway, another one of his “work-from-home” days, which usually meant ESPN muted in the background while he pretended to answer emails.“John?” My voice echoed through the house. “I need you.” He stepped into the kitchen, holding a coffee mug, looking mildly annoyed. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.” I tried to speak, but the words got tangled in my throat. I reached out to him, desperate for comfort. He sighed and gave me a quick, awkward pat on the back, like he was consoling a distant acquaintance. “My mom… she died, John. Mom’s gone.” His grip tightened for a moment. “Oh, wow. That’s… I’m sorry.” Then, just as quickly, he pulled away. “Do you want me to order takeout?
Maybe Thai?” I nodded, numb. The next day, reality hit hard. There was so much to handle—planning the funeral, notifying family, and dealing with a lifetime of memories. As I sat at the kitchen table, buried in lists, I remembered our planned vacation. “John, we’ll need to cancel Hawaii,” I said, looking up from my phone. “The funeral will probably be next week, and—” “Cancel?”
He lowered his newspaper, frowning. “Edith, those tickets were non-refundable. We’d lose a lot of money. Besides, I’ve already booked my golf games.” I stared at him, stunned. “John, my mother just died.” He folded the newspaper with the kind of precision that told me he was more irritated than concerned. “I get that you’re upset, but funerals are for family. I’m just your husband—your cousins won’t even notice I’m not there. You can handle things here, and you know I’m not great with emotional stuff.” It felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “Just my husband?” “You know what I mean,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze and adjusting his tie. “Besides, someone should use those tickets. You can text me if you need anything.” I felt like I was seeing him clearly for the first time in 15 years of marriage. The week that followed was a blur. John occasionally offered a stiff pat on the shoulder or suggested I watch a comedy to lift my mood. But when the day of the funeral came, he was on a plane to Hawaii, posting Instagram stories of sunsets and cocktails. “#LivingMyBestLife,” one caption read. Meanwhile, I buried my mother alone on a rainy Thursday. That night, sitting in an empty house, surrounded by untouched sympathy casseroles, something snapped inside me. I had spent years making excuses for John’s emotional absence. “He’s just not a feelings person,” I would say. “He shows his love in other ways.” But I was done pretending.I called my friend Sarah, a realtor. “Can you list the house for me? Oh, and include John’s Porsche in the deal.” “His Porsche? Eddie, he’ll lose it!” “That’s the point.” The next morning, “potential buyers” started showing up. I sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee, watching as they circled John’s beloved car. When his Uber finally pulled into the driveway, I couldn’t help but smile. It was showtime. John stormed in, face flushed. “Edith, what the hell? People are asking about my car!” “Oh, that. I’m selling the house. The Porsche is a great bonus, don’t you think?”He sputtered, pulling out his phone. “This is insane! I’ll call Sarah right now!” “Go ahead,” I said sweetly. “Maybe you can tell her about your fabulous vacation. How was the beach?” Realization slowly dawned across his face. “This… is this some kind of payback? Did I do something wrong?” I stood, letting my anger finally surface. “You abandoned me when I needed you most. I’m just doing what you do: looking out for myself. After all, I’m just your wife, right?” John spent the next hour frantically trying to shoo away buyers, while begging me to reconsider. By the time Sarah texted that her friends had run out of patience, I let him off the hook—sort of. “Fine. I won’t sell the house or the car.” I paused. “This time.” He sagged with relief. “Thank you, Edith. I—” I held up my hand. “But things are going to change. I needed my husband, and you weren’t there. You’re going to start acting like a partner, or next time, the For Sale sign will be real.” He looked ashamed, finally understanding the gravity of his actions. “What can I do to make this right?” “You can start by showing up. Be a partner, not a roommate. I lost my mother, John. That kind of grief isn’t something you can fix with a vacation or a fancy dinner.” He nodded. “I don’t know how to be the man you need, but I love you, and I want to try.” It’s not perfect now. John still struggles with emotions, but he’s going to therapy, and last week, for the first time, he asked me how I was feeling about Mom. He listened while I talked about how much I missed her calls and how I sometimes still reach for the phone, only to remember she’s not there. He even opened up a little about his own feelings. It’s progress. Baby steps. I often wonder what Mom would say about all this. I can almost hear her chuckling, shaking her head. “That’s my girl,” she’d say. “Never let them see you sweat. Just show them the ‘For Sale’ sign instead.” Because if there’s one thing she taught me, it’s that strength comes in many forms. Sometimes it’s pushing through the pain, and sometimes it’s knowing when to push back.
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