Remembering JFK Jr. on his 25th death anniversary

“The John Kennedy I met was elegant and eloquent — a man who had lost so much as a child, but who went on to live his life filled with love, adventure, accomplishment and as he said, ‘relative normalcy.’” — Hillary Clinton

I remember exactly where I was 25 years ago when news reached me that John F. Kennedy Jr.’s plane had gone missing; the news hitting me like ice-cold water. It was around 9 p.m. and I had just arrived home from work. I then sank into the living room couch, suddenly feeling like I weighed a ton, and wondering if the Atlantic Ocean had claimed John.

I reflected anew on whether there was indeed a Kennedy curse. Were the Kennedys always cut off in their prime? But the Kennedy matriarch Rose lived to be over 100 and Ted Kennedy, the “Lion of the US Senate,” lived till age 77.

To whom much is given, much is expected. The Kennedys have scaled many heights, and have savored rare, blissful triumphs since they sailed to America from Ireland during the potato famine –– the sweetest triumph of which was JFK’s election in 1960 as the first Irish-Catholic president of the United States. But they have also endured much pain and unspeakable tragedy: three plane crashes (which killed Joe Jr., Kathleen Kennedy, and JFK Jr.), two assassinations (of JFK and RFK), a drug overdose (David Kennedy’s) and a fatal skiing accident (Michael Kennedy’s).

John was 38, a good eight years younger than JFK was when he was assassinated in 1963. And the world (not an exaggeration) already grieved for the many lost years ahead for President Kennedy. “Sayang siya,” my parents and grandparents used to say, shaking their heads.

When people die young, we cry not only because they are gone too soon, but also because we will always wonder what they could and would have been. The unfulfilled potential, the broken promise from a life that could have been great, that could have made us better — is what we mourn for.

One of JFK’s best friends, Robbie Littell, was quoted in an article in People magazine this month that he grieved as well not just for the world’s loss but John’s as well.

“I’ve heard they cut a tree down in Irish culture when someone dies young because they only lived half of their life. And I like to say, here’s a guy who lived twice as hard as anyone else. Twice as well as anyone else… I think of the loss, not so much my loss, but his loss — of not being able to experience life, which he loved so much...”

The plan 25 years ago today was for John to fly his Piper Saratoga plane, which he had purchased that spring, to Martha’s Vineyard to drop off his sister-in-law Lauren Bessette, and then continue to Hyannis Port, Massachusetts, where he and his wife, Carolyn, planned to attend his cousin Rory Kennedy’s wedding the next day. According to medical reports, all three died “instantly” when their plane hit the ocean. As reported by transportation authorities, the cause of the crash was “pilot error.”

I remember keeping an anxious vigil before the TV set as this was way, way before social media. Like many who had uttered a collective “Oh, no!” when they heard JFK Jr.’s plane was missing, I clung to hope that he would find his way to shore, with his wife and sister-in-law in tow. (I once read that John Jr. did in fact swim through rough seas when he went solo paddling on the Atlantic. Hypothermic, he reached shore, broke into an unoccupied home, took a warm bath, then left a note of apology to the house’s owners for breaking in. Of course, the owners never filed charges against him and wrote him back instead with pleasantries.)

On Day 3 or 4, I suddenly got a stream of condolences over SMS. My fascination — nay, fixation — for the Kennedys was known by kith and kin. The wreckage of the plane had been found, and not far, at the bottom of the ocean, John, Carolyn and Lauren still strapped to their seats.

The next day, ABS-CBN chased me from the old Hyatt Regency on Roxas Boulevard, where I was having a press lunch, to my home (then in Makati) to interview me — I kid thee not! Their researcher knew of my being a Kennedy fan(atic) and so they interviewed me on JFK Jr. (who I had never even met).

The oddity of this Filipino girl grieving like she was JFK Jr.’s ex-girlfriend must have caught the eye of CNN, because it picked up the video clip of ABS-CBN’s interview with me and my Assumption high school classmate Therese Gamboa saw it in NYC and thought to herself, “Whatta… why is my classmate Joanne crying on TV?”

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But there is a Filipina who did rub elbows with JFK Jr. — chef par excellence Margarita “Gaita” Fores, who had common friends with the American royal.

“In NYC in the late ’70s,” Gaita once recalled to me. “We had common friends. Sam Eduque and I taught him how to play backgammon. We spent a weekend at my former boss Alfonso Telese’s place in Garrison, New York. Alfonso is a super-close friend of my mom, who used to manufacture the furs for Valentino. I got my job at Valentino because of him. My cousin, Jorge Yulo, was with us that weekend, too.”

How was JFK Jr. like, considering his looks, his lineage, his star wattage?

“No airs at all. He was a super-regular guy, unassuming,” remembered Gaita. “You would think all the Kennedys know everything, right? So, we were surprised that he didn’t know how to play backgammon and he asked us to teach him.”

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From another book timed for the 20th anniversary of John’s passing, Four Friends: Promising Lives Cut Short by William D. Cohan, excerpts of which were published in Vanity Fair:

“A few days before Jackie Kennedy Onassis died, in May 1994, she wrote a letter to her son John, to be opened only after her death. ‘I understand the pressure you’ll forever have to endure as a Kennedy, even though we brought you into this world as an innocent,’ she wrote. ‘You, especially, have a place in history. No matter what course in life you choose, all I can ask is that you and Caroline continue to make me, the Kennedy family, and yourself proud.’”

The 25th death anniversary of JFK Jr., who was never an elected public official, unlike his father and uncles, is still almost personal to many.

Perhaps as Dan Rather of CBS said 25 years ago, this much is true: “The world called him John-John and when he made that little salute (to his father) I adopted him, the world adopted him, and from that moment on, he was everybody’s son.”

Many of his admirers like me couldn’t have adopted John as a son but carry that empty space in their hearts for what could have been if that young prince had become king.

You may e-mail me at [email protected]. Follow me on Instagram @joanneraeramirez.