The Portal Patch Fleece Story
By Jacole Hall
There are moments in life that split you in two — who you were before, and who you become after.
For me, that moment came during a season that no one would believe unless they lived it.
Our baby had just turned one.
We had just buried my father.
And two weeks later, my husband was diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer.
That’s where this story begins… in a place so dark it felt like the air was thinning around me, in a place where faith isn’t an idea — it’s oxygen.
A Season No Family Should Face
I remember holding baby boy number two in one arm, planning my father’s funeral, and sitting in shock as a doctor told us the news no family ever wants to hear.
And somehow, through all of it, I still had to show up as a mother — cheerful, strong, present, listening to little voices, answering big questions, hiding the tears behind bathroom doors and in the laundry room and on the kitchen floor.
My boys needed me.
Dominic needed me.
And God was the only one holding me up.
The Man Who Fought With Everything He Had
Dominic was a warrior long before cancer ever entered the story.
He was 6’3″, strong but gentle, thoughtful but fierce, the kind of man whose silence carried more strength than other men’s speeches.
He was tall, dark, handsome, disciplined, brilliant — a man who read books, led his team, protected his community, and loved his children with a tenderness that could make you cry.
He was a Marine Corps Honor Grad, a Special Forces Green Beret, a man who showed what “If not me, then who?” truly meant. A stoic masterpiece.
He was also the man who sang “Puff the Magic Dragon” while tossing our two year old in the air, the man who lay on the floor with our babies asleep on his chest, the man who loved deeply and lived intentionally.
And then cancer came.
It came fast.
It came violently.
It came like a thief in the night.
The Battle That tried to Shattered Us
Watching him go through treatment felt like watching the strongest man I had ever known walk through fire with bare feet.
The violent vomiting, the extreme diarrhea, the weight loss, the sleepless nights…
the moments where he would search for something comfortable to wear to treatment, asking me quietly:
“Will this work? Will this be okay?”
Those moments haunted me.
I wanted to cut holes in his shirts,
patch together comfort where the world offered none,
hold him together with my bare hands.
He lost 14 pounds the first week.
And yet, he still stood tall for his brother’s wedding as best man… because love makes you stand even when your legs are tired and shaking.
There were days we’d show up for chemo only to be told he wasn’t scheduled — forgotten by mistake.
I was wrecked.
He stayed graceful. “Humans make mistakes” he’d say. “It’s ok.”
That’s who he was.
The Mountain I Never Chose to Climb
Becoming a widowed, orphaned, single mother, only parent…
is a mountain no one prepares you for.
I searched everywhere for guidance —
“what to do,”
“how to be,”
“where to turn,”
“how to raise boys who just lost their father.”
But I realized something:
Your circumstances don’t define you.
You can grow from them.
You can conquer from them.
There were days I cried on the kitchen floor so hard I couldn’t breathe.
And then one day, God whispered:
“You can cry about it,
or you can be about it.”
So I chose to get up.
The Calling That Chose Me
The Portal Patch Fleece wasn’t born from business ambitions.
It was born from love
— and loss
— and faith
— and the desire to honor Dominic’s legacy
— and the need to help families who are walking the same devastating road.
It was born from watching him search for clothes that wouldn’t tug on his port.
It was born from wanting to give him warmth and dignity during treatment days.
It was born from the ocean-deep feeling of drowning…
and choosing to swim anyway.
When you’re at the bottom of the ocean,
you don’t look at the darkness.
You swim toward the light —
because you know it’s still there.
God gave me strength.
He gave me purpose.
He gave me rainbows even after I stopped believing in signs.
He gave me the courage to build something bigger than my pain.
What I Want My Boys to Know
I want my sons to grow up knowing:
They are warriors’ children.
They are capable of anything they’re willing to work hard for.
They are loved beyond measure.
They have an army behind them.
And God is always the answer — always.
I want them to see me build something meaningful not in spite of grief, but through it —
so they can learn that God can use anyone, anywhere, with anything… if they’re willing.
For the Fighter and the Family
To the cancer fighter:
You are not alone.
It is not your fault.
You are so deeply loved.
You are doing the best you can with what you have.
Keep fighting.
Keep going.
Each day is a victory.
To the caregiver or loved one:
You are a warrior too.
Cry when you need to.
Break when you must.
But don’t stay down.
Get back up.
If you know someone who has lost a fighter —
reach out.
Don’t overthink it.
Your message could be the hope they prayed for.
Why Portal Patch Fleece Exists
When I couldn’t find warmth and dignity for my own husband…
I vowed no other family should feel that way.
This fleece is designed for:
-Comfort.
-Warmth in cold hospital rooms.
-Gentle port-access.
-Dignity.
-Love.
-Legacy.
It is made for the fighters, the families, the widows, the children, the exhausted, the strong, the hopeful, the ones who feel alone — and the ones still swimming upward from the deepest parts of the unknown.
The Portal Patch Fleece is the lighthouse I once searched for.
I pray it becomes hope stitched into fabric,
light stitched into darkness,
and a reminder that:
Even in the hardest battles,
God is near —
and love never leaves.
