It Gets Harder?

Well before getting into the nitty gritty of the post, I will first apologize for my serious MIA status. I've been doing a little bit of vacationing and thoroughly enjoying it. Went on a cruise with mom, dad, and A and then came home for a few weeks before heading to Florida with A to see Jonny's side of the family. In between all that I'm still working on getting my home set up, and I'm pretty sure I'll be in "moving-in" status for the rest of my life, or at least five years. Yikes! Our travels were good, the cruise was a lot of fun and A loved seeing the water every where. Our trip to Florida was outstanding, and I think it was also much needed. It was great to be with his family which is also my family, reminisce, hang out, and really just keep getting to know each other. We had a blast and I am looking forward to our next trip there.

I say it was a needed trip because I just needed some more of him and his family is as him as it gets (thank God I have a little piece of him hanging out with me everyday). I haven't been doing well. Grief isn't just a nice and neat little agenda you can follow. The pathway of grief or whatever it's called? Yea, complete bullshit. It just doesn't work that way. The stages, sure they may be there. The anger, the depression, the bargaining, all of that. Yup, it's there. But it doesn't come as it's "expected" one neatly following the other and never returning when it's done. Each little "stage" springs up when it feels like and you have to deal with it when it presents itself, even if you've dealt with it before. And oftentimes, it's not alone, in fact 9 out of 10 times it's accompanying another little stage of grief, tag teaming on the ass kicking. Grief is just not fun. I'm saying grief a lot, because it finally actually feels like grieving.

For the last two years, well, let's face it. I've been running. Maybe if I ran fast enough, I occupied myself enough, I hid, well maybe then there would be no grief. If I moved fast enough, got away from it, maybe just maybe I would wake up from it. The problem is, however, there's nothing to wake up from. This is real life and well, frankly, it sucks. No life doesn't suck, just the circumstances, the grief. That sucks.  A lot.

This March, April, and May have just been wooping me. I just want him here. I don't want to be a widow anymore. I just want to be a regular wife, with my husband who I love, having regular married people dilemmas. I called my mom a few weeks ago after I'd walked through my office where Jonny's urn (the box) is proudly displayed. I had stopped and stared at that urn and was like "What is that?" in my head... "what is it doing here" I called my mom and said that I am ready to wake up from the nightmare now. But like I said, and she said, it's the crappy reality.

I know, I'm rambling. It's been a while, alright? I guess where I'm going is I didn't expect it to get harder. I didn't expect it to get easier, either, I just figured it would... I don't know... I didn't know what to expect. I miss him more than ever. It's been too long. I want to feel his warmth around me, talk to him, just have him here. I'm sad, I'm angry, and I'm not feeling like accepting it.

I know, you've all read this before. I'm certainly not looking for pity, it's just so good to get it out. The written words seem to help me make sense of it all. I've just been in so much pain. I'm not numb and I'm not running and I'm just here and hurting.

But. I will survive. I always do.
Pump up the Gloria Gaynor for a little motivation.

Grievances of Dating

I guess I'll start this post out by saying that Z and I decided to split. After a year together, it was time to take a break from one another to really evaluate what we each want out of life. I'm obviously not going too far into it because it's a personal matter but I will say we remain friends and he was a very important part of my life for a year and I will never forget the time we shared even though I've decided we should go our separate ways.

Our split happened about a month or so ago and I decided I really want to see what is out there in the world. Or better yet - who. I never really dated like an adult. You know, went on dates, that sort of thing. I had a long term boyfriend from high school to college, then Jonny and I met shortly after I graduated college and fell in love - it was so easy for us, I was and am so lucky - and then got married.  I tried dating for a while (a little known fact that I don't discuss because I don't really like hearing people's opinions on my personal life) and then I met Z and settled in with him for a year. I know I'm getting pretty personal and I know I'm going to get all kinds of comments on this and I'll just put it out right now mean/hurtful ones will not be tolerated, they will be deleted and you'll be wasting your time and energy typing it out.

So anyway, I've decided I want to try to date. Not to get serious, not to get the booty from every guy in town (I'm actually on a strictly no-booty-for-a-long-while program, if you need to know) but to date. If anything, make some new friends. Since I don't really have many single friends anymore, I did what more people than you think might do, and I joined Match.

Here's where the grievance sets in. So on match, you can put what you're looking for. You fill out an "ideal match" section so to speak. Then every day, you're sent profiles of people you might get along with. So I check them out, see if anyone sparks an interest and go from there. One of the first things I look at is what they're looking for. Specifically the part where it says about kids and relationship status.

The issue I'm having is these guys will check off "never married, divorced, separated" etc. etc. They'll check off every box but widowed. Basically saying, I'm willing to date any kind of person, even one not even all the way broken up, as long as they aren't widowed. Honestly, it kind of gets to me.

Being a widowed person is challenging, oh hell yes it is, and being friends with a widowed person, even more being in a relationship with one, I'm sure is beyond strenuous. You can ask Z, it ain't no walk in the park. But to be completely closed off to dating a widowed person? Well, you might just be missing the best thing you could ever get.

I get it. "Baggage" is a word that comes to mind. For me though, I'm not going to hide my widowed-ness. I won't change it to "divorced" because I'm not. I still love my husband with all my heart, but I'm open to loving someone new, as well. I'm not even looking to love someone new right now to be honest, just to see what is out there, but the idea of loving someone again is not something that I am opposed to (obviously, because I was in a just-shy-of-a-year long relationship). Do I have my "baggage"? Well, I suppose you could call it that. I've got a husband that I love dearly who is no longer with me and a daughter that he created with me who I love with all my heart. In my mind, that's not baggage - but I know to others it may be. But I also have a husband who wanted, above all things, to see me happy, and I know that even though he is not with me, that is still his wish for me. I won't settle for less than happiness.

There's a stigma that widows don't or shouldn't date. To me that's complete hogwash. Why do we deserve less than others? Why should we have to be alone? Why don't we deserve to share our lives with someone? It is perfectly possible and acceptable to love someone new while still loving and honoring your spouse in Heaven. Is it awkward? Yup, it's awkward for both the dating persons and the friends of them. I know that friends of my husband have felt weird about me dating, but it's not their life. That's the long and short of it. It's my life and I know I deserve happiness. I want someone to share my life with, to share joy and sorrow with, to share responsibilities with, the whole nine; and it is not fair for someone who has never walked in these shoes to tell me that looking for someone to love (or even just spend time with) is wrong. It's also not fair that anyone would be opposed to meeting me because I'm widowed. Do you have to love me and spend your life with me? Nope, if it turns into something you can't handle or you don't want to handle, that's fine. But to be completely opposed to the idea? Ouch. I'm still a woman. I'm still hilarious (or at least, I think so). I still like having fun. Do I have bad days? Oh definitely. Do I miss my husband every single stinkin' day? Yup. Do I still incorporate him in my daughter and my life? You betcha! But I'm still just a person! A person who's been through a lot, sure, but a person who is funny and life loving and moderately attractive, too!

So there. There are my grievances on dating. I'm going to repeat this because I know you little anonymous turds out there - mean/hurtful will not be tolerated. I deserve happiness, and if you think I don't, your words are meaningless. I hope this might help a fellow widowed person out there who may want to pursue dating or is dating and dealing with the obstacles of widowed dating. Besides everyone having some sort of input on what we're doing, dating as a widow is a challenge. It's really putting yourself out there. There are about 243180571 emotions involved in it and it is certainly not easy. To my widowed friends - do what makes you happy. To my non-widowed friends, please don't judge when you have no idea what it is like in these shoes. And to the singles out there and looking, don't write us off because we're widowed, I know so many awesome widows out there you are going to be sadly missing! Life is about taking chances. Take the chance to put yourself out there, take a chance on something new, take a chance to hear a person's story before making a judgement.

As an addendum: Being more focused on what I'm doing with my own life, I forgot to add this in until just now (scatterbrained, what can I say?). There are also widows who choose not to date. Young and old alike. That's cool, too. If you are in a position where you don't want to date, then don't date. There are people who have their opinions on that as well (You're young, you'll find love again. What haven't you started dating your husband's been gone xxx years, etc. etc.) If you're happy not dating then be happy. And if your widowed friend is happy not dating, leave her (or him) alone. I spoke about dating because that's where I am in my life and the issues I'm facing, but there are others who choose the opposite and still face issues of opinions and judgers. The choice to date or not date is a personal one that can only be decided by the person. In the end the only answer is to be true to yourself and do what brings you happiness.

Seven Hundred Twenty

Apparently I've got a thing with numbers lately. 720. That's how many days it's been since he left this earth. That's how many days I've survived widowhood. Well, I didn't know I was surviving it until the 15th, but ...

I miss him so much. I feel like I'm being ripped from both sides. It's crazy how the simple changing of the clock can make pain so much more intense. What the hell. I mean, the pain is there everyday but there's something about the marker, the anniversary. That's why we celebrate anniversaries, isn't it? Because they mean something. And that's why anniversaries are so painful, too. Reminders. Once a year reminders.

I can remember this time so vividly. It's funny because the days after  are a haze but the days right around - permanently engrained in my brain.

I can remember March 13th into 14th. I went to get a matching tattoo with a friend (I use that term lightly these days, unfortunately those who were friends then aren't so anymore, who knew death would also steal friendships?) Anyway, we got yellow ribbons. I semi-designed it with the assistance of the artist. Yellow ribbon tattered to show the hardships of the military spouse as well as the support of the military. Even though we may be tattered and withstand a lot, we're still there at the end of the day. Mine was finished sometime around midnight on the 14th because we went right after a battalion ladies night at the habachi grill in town. It was a fun day and night. We'd gone to the beach that day and had plans to the next day, as well.

The next day, March 14th, I spent feeling ill. I cancelled my beach plans (an unbelievable fact at the time - I never turned down the beach) because my stomach was in knots, I felt off, and just down. I called the friend I'd gotten the tattoo with thinking maybe I had an infection. Like the great friend she was at the time, she laughed at me (that's what I needed to stop from being paranoid) and told me I was fine. I still had no idea why I felt so off.

That night I heard about an accident. Another friend's husband had been injured. Maybe I've told you guys about this before, maybe not. But either way, there was an accident and my friend's husband had been injured. I knew my husband had been with her husband, we'd just figured this out days before. A wife who's husband was non-deployable called another friend (it's hard to follow without names, I know, i'm doing my best) telling her there was a casualty. That friend called me worrying it was her husband. My stomach hit the floor. Jonny was with the injured guy... I knew that... there was a casualty... what if it was Jonny? I called my family and they did their job at reassuring me. We didn't even know anything, why worry? But something certainly felt wrong. I went to bed.

I went to bed praying. Praying so hard. Please don't let it be Jonny. Don't let it be *friend's husband's name* either, but please, please God don't let it be Jonny. Don't let my doorbell ring in the morning.
The next morning, well, let's say what I've been told by so many milspouses - my worst nightmare came true.

My doorbell rang. It was still dark. The baby was sleeping in my bed with me. She was 2 months old, it was March 15. I went to answer the door. I stumbled back to my room finding something to put on, I went to answer the door, back and forth. I flipped on the light of the porch. I peeked through the peephole. I saw the shiny chaplain's cover through the peephole. I knew my fears were about to be confirmed. I still hadn't put on clothes. I had to let them know I was there. I think I was yelling who is it, but I can't remember if that actually happened or it was just in my head. I put on sweats. I walked back through the house.

I walked, I walked. My two bedroom duplex hallway felt a mile long. I opened the door.
There they were. They stood there. This was not good. It was true. No, it couldn't be. Wrong house. Wrong house.

Are you Rachel Porto, wife of Cpl Jonathan Porto? blank stare maybe? head shake? Asked again. Asked again. No. No. No. No. I needed to confirm before I'd be told anything. Maybe a nod.

We're sorry to inform you....

It happened. He was gone. My love, my hero, my soulmate. He'd left the earth.
At some point I screamed. At some point I fell on the floor.
I had to get up, I had to get to Ariana.

Thank God for that little girl who made me survive through those early days. I had no choice, I had to take care of my little girl, his little girl, our little girl.

I had to survive. And so, I did.
I have.
Two years later, I'm still here.

That's the story. That's when I found out my life had been flipped. From that point on, everything would be different. Days would turn into struggles, pain would come from incomprehensible parts of my body for no reason, tears springing from nothing. I would lose friends, I would gain friends. I would join a family that no one wanted to be a part of but that was so supportive and would turn into my best friends and biggest cheerleaders for success. Friends who stuck by would become family and strength, more than I think they'll ever know, and more than I can thank them for.

Complete strangers would show their support. I found a bunch of cards and letters of support today. I never wrote thank you cards. Everything was just... insane... and I just never did it. I wish I had. I wish I could thank each and every one of the people who sent something, friends, family, and total strangers, who sent their condolences and their wishes for only the best for my daughter and I. The love and support from everyone, simply astounding. I hope at least some of those people read this. I'm sorry I never sent thank yous, I wish I could thank you each and I don't even know if I could find the words to accurately express how amazing you all are, but your love and support through these times has been beyond amazing.

To everyone who's been there, even those who are no longer, you made an impact. You helped me through.

Today, I stand. I cry, I remember. But, I stand. I am here, I am thriving.

I will never forget my love, I will try to honor him every day I live. I will remember him and I will nourish his life in our daughter.

Because our love was so strong, it has carried me through. On days like this, Jonny, I think of you. I think of the way you loved me, and I know it's not so bad. I had that love, I still have that love.
So, to my biggest support (even if you are the cause of all this, ya turd) thank you for your love. Thank you because I know you make sure I feel it from where you are. Thank you for loving me. And thank you, thank you for choosing me to be your wife, thank you for choosing me to be the mother of your beautiful child. I'd never change being with you, even if I couldn't change the ending, you showed me what true love is and I will always love you for the rest of my years on this earth and beyond. I know you hear me, I know you feel me. Know that I miss you, I love you, and you are my true love.

And with that, I am off to bed to be rested to spend a day at the zoo with our beautiful daughter tomorrow.

Remember to hug your loved ones. Tell them you love them and how much they mean to you. Life is short, appreciate it.



Twenty Eight

It would have been my Stinky's 28th birthday today, in Earth years. It's the second birthday he is celebrating in Heaven. We never celebrated his birthday together. The first year we were together, 2009, he was in Jacksonville and I hadn't moved down there yet because our wedding was still a few months away. I sent him a box of clothes I'd picked out for him, and I think some candy. I joked with him that he was a grandpa-old man because he was turning 25 - a quarter of a century (Yes, that's what I turned this year, I don't want to talk about it!). He loved the clothes, and laughed and joked back about being an oldman grandpa. It was a good birthday even though we weren't together.

When he turned 26, he was in Afghanistan. For his birthday, we sent him a DVD of us gals (me and A) telling him happy birthday. We sang to him, we blew him kisses. We also included the DVD of A from right after she was born; first bath, those kinds of things. We sent him tons of photos. We sent goodies, typical care package stuff. He loved it. He especially loved the video footage and getting to see his girls. He said he got teary-eyed watching A get her first bath because she was crying and so upset. Oh how he loved that baby girl and he hadn't even met her. It was so obvious. He thought she was the bees knees. He just couldn't wait to meet her.

He called the day of his birthday. I was so excited to talk to him, I think it was one of the first times I'd talked to him since he pushed forward into Marjah. I was so excited to talk to him that I just kind of started babbling on about all the new things A was doing and how we were. Then he said someone had let him use the sat phone because it was his birthday. Of course I hadn't forgotten his birthday but I just got so excited talking to him I didn't say it right away. I said something along the lines of "OH MY GOD HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I knew it was your birthday and I was so excited for your birthday I just forgot to say it, gosh I suck" I know it went something like that. He didn't mind. He was happy to talk to us for his birthday.

He died less than a month later.

On his 27th birthday, I got a call from a good friend who had been down in Wilmington telling me Ballyhoo! was playing. Jonny and I had gone to see Ballyhoo! so many times, and I was actually trying to create a fundraising benefit concert featuring Ballyhoo! (it completely fell through) so it was pretty crazy that they were in NC (they're a MD local band) on his birthday, even if it wasn't for my event that had fallen through. I had asked them to sing Happy Birthday to him but of course it got forgotten and I was so mad. I went out back waiting for my friends to be ready to go, when my dear friend who told us about it in the first place came down the stairs to tell me her husband was in a fight. We rushed up to see what was going on and there was no fight, just the guys of Ballyhoo! standing around. They apologized for missing "Happy Birthday" and of course I had talked to the only guy without a mic to do it - HA. So, they personally sang Happy Birthday to Jonny just for me and my friends. It was a pretty awesome evening celebrating his birthday, a way he would have loved.

Yesterday, I felt the need for a little date night with my now bf Z. I wasn't really tying it in to Jonny's birthday, since that's today, but we ended up going to see Act of Valor. It might not have been the best idea considering his birthday was the next day and it was extremely emotional (I was wailing in the theatre - more on my opinion of the movie later). I wasn't quite ready to go home after being shaken up, so Z and I went to a local bar for some food and drink. As the hours ticked away to Jonny's birthday I kept thinking of how we might have been spending it. It actually seemed like a fitting evening. A local country band was playing in the bar just by chance, and minutes before midnight they sang Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue," a song I used to YELL and Jonny would comment about how motarded I am and that he's surprised I don't have a high-and-tight - a song that definitely reminds me of Jonny and the laughter we shared. After midnight, Z went up and asked the band if they'd do a shoutout for Jonny, which they did. It was really nice of him to acknowledge it was my husband's birthday. And it was definitely a way I could see spending his birthday if he were here to spend it with. I certainly felt his presence with me!

Today was just a chill day. I went over to my mom and dads with the baby we just kind of hung out. Had some sweet buffet from Golden Corral for dinner. It's the 4th bday of his we've celebrated apart - o wait, that's all of them!! I always wonder what we'd do if we'd actually been together for any of them, so I just try to celebrate them in what seems most fitting.

I love celebrating his life. Does it get me down? Yup. He's not here and I'd give anything to celebrate with him. But if he can't be here, I'll celebrate for him. I will continue to be happy and grateful that he was in my life for the short time that he was. I will thank my lucky stars that I was blessed with that love, even if it was taken away what I believe to have been far, FAR too soon. I speak of him daily and that obviously doesn't change on his birthday. I miss him so much, but instead of being sad, I will just be happy that I had what I did with him. And that our love is eternal and nothing, not even death can change that. That I can still feel his love for me from Heaven, and I'm pretty sure he can still feel my love for him from here to Heaven.

Happy birthday, my angel. I love you forever and ever, babe. To the moon and back.
 

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