Days before her birthday, Jon Bon Jovi’s mother Carol Bongiovi passed away.
She was dubbed a “force to be reckoned with” by the singer.
JON Three days prior to being eighty-three, Bon Jovi’s mother, Carol Bongiovi, passed away.
Jon, 62, spoke empathetically about Carol following her death on Tuesday at Monmouth Medical Center in Long Branch, New Jersey.
Jon told PEOPLE, “Our mother was a force to be reckoned with; her spirit and can-do attitude shaped this family.”
“We will miss her terribly.”
Carol, a former Playboy bunny, founded the fan club for her son’s band.
She met her future husband, John Bongiovi, Sr., after she enlisted in the U.S. Marine Corps in 1959.
After relocating, they reared their children in Sayreville, New Jersey.
Following that, they relocated to Holmdel, New Jersey, where she lived until her passing.
It was reported that Holmdel Funeral Home will oversee Carol’s private funeral.
Her three children, Jon, Anthony, and Matthew, as well as her 63-year-old husband, will miss her.
Jon has previously stated that when he was a child and desired to be a musician, his parents provided him with “incredible support.”
In November 2020, he said, “Even if you weren’t good at your craft, you could work on it if you thought you were,” to The Big Issue.
“As I grew older, I realized how wonderful my parents’ gift to me was.
“They genuinely believed John F. Kennedy was directing them to travel to the moon.” “You can go to the moon, of course.” Just go, John. I visited that place.
The performer told about how his parents used to take him to concerts when he was seventeen.
When Jon was seventeen, his parents allowed him to perform at events, which allowed him to pursue his aspirations.
“They were always there for me, which was amazing looking back,” he remarked.
“Because I could have to be at school at eight o’clock and get home at one or two in the morning.”
“They just told me to go to school on time, you know that’s my responsibility, but follow your dreams.”
The girl Jon fell in love with in high school, Dorothea Hurley, is the wife he married.
Together, they are parents to three sons, Jesse, Jake, and Romeo, and a thirty-one-year-old daughter, Stephanie.
Model Jake wed Stranger Things actress Millie Bobby Brown in a tiny, private ceremony in May 2024, according to the first story from The Sun.
The parents of Millie and Jon attended the little wedding.
He expressed his excitement for the wedding to The Sun the week prior.
“My grandchildren will have more English ancestry than Italian or any other heritage I may have” That must be absurd, right? The musician screamed.
“Your kids are married and talking to you about having grandchildren all of a sudden? Wow!” In my book, this is the longest chapter.
I Felt Disappointed That My Grandfather Left Me Just an Old Apiary, but My Perspective Changed When I Inspected the Beehives
My late grandfather, a master storyteller who spun tales of buried treasure, left me a rather unexpected inheritance: a dusty old apiary. It felt like a cruel joke at first. Who would leave their grandchild a shack swarming with bees? My resentment lingered until the day I finally ventured into the beehives.
One typical morning, Aunt Daphne urged me to pack my bag for school, but I was too busy texting a friend about the upcoming dance and my crush, Scott. When she mentioned my grandfather’s dreams for me, my frustration grew. I had no interest in tending to his bees; I just wanted to enjoy my teenage life.
The next day, Aunt Daphne chastised me for my neglect, threatening to ground me. She insisted that caring for the apiary was part of my responsibility. Despite my protests, I reluctantly agreed to check on the hives. Donning protective gear, I opened the first hive, my heart racing. A bee stung my glove, and for a moment, I considered quitting. But a rush of determination took over, and I pressed on, hoping to show Aunt Daphne I could handle this.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weathered plastic bag containing a faded map. Excited, I tucked it into my pocket and raced home to grab my bike. Following the map, I pedaled into the woods, recalling my grandfather’s stories that had once enchanted me.
I found myself in a clearing resembling a scene from one of his tales—the old gamekeeper’s house stood before me, decaying but still captivating. Memories flooded back of lazy afternoons spent there, listening to his stories. Touching the gnarled tree nearby, I recalled his playful warnings about the gnomes that supposedly lurked in the woods.
Inside the forgotten cabin, I uncovered a beautifully carved metal box. Inside was a note from Grandpa: “To my dear Robyn, this box contains a treasure for you, but do not open it until your journey’s true end” Though tempted, I knew I had to honor his wishes.
After exploring further, I realized I was lost and panic set in. Remembering Grandpa’s advice to stay calm, I pressed on, searching for a familiar path. Eventually, I stumbled upon the bridge he often spoke of, but it felt further away than I had hoped. Exhausted and disoriented, I collapsed beneath a tree, longing for home.
The next morning, determined to find my way, I recalled Grandpa’s lessons as I navigated through the wilderness. I found a river but was startled when I slipped into the icy water. Fighting against the current, I finally managed to cling to a log, eventually dragging myself to shore.
Soaked and trembling, I rummaged through my backpack, only to find stale crumbs. When I remembered Grandpa’s wisdom, I used healing leaves for my cuts and continued onward, drawn by the sound of rushing water. I finally reached the river again, but the water was treacherous. Desperate, I knelt to drink, but the current swept me away, and I found myself struggling against the powerful flow.
Determined not to give up, I let go of my backpack but clung to the metal box. With sheer will, I fought my way to the bank, finally escaping the icy grasp of the river. I needed shelter, so I built a makeshift one from branches under a sturdy oak tree.
The next morning, I set out once more, the metal box feeling like my only lifeline. Memories of fishing trips with Grandpa warmed me, urging me forward. When I finally spotted the bridge, hope surged within me. But the forest began to close in around me, confusion and despair threatening to overwhelm me. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I found a clearing and collapsed, utterly spent.
Then, I heard voices calling my name. I awoke in a hospital bed with Aunt Daphne by my side. Overcome with regret, I apologized for everything. She comforted me, reminding me of Grandpa’s unconditional love and how he always believed in me.
As she reached into her bag, my heart raced when I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper. It was an Xbox, a gift from Grandpa, meant to be given only when I understood the value of hard work. I realized then that I had learned that lesson, and the desire for the gift faded.
In the following years, I grew into my responsibilities, embracing the lessons my grandfather imparted. Now, as a mother myself, I reflect on those moments with gratitude. The sweet honey from my bees serves as a cherished reminder of the bond I shared with Grandpa, a bond that continues to guide me.
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