Not the same

Until now, I haven’t taken the time to share my thoughts on everything we, the Enderle family, have been through — and to put it bluntly, it’s been incredibly difficult. It’s been painful, overwhelming, and not something I would ever wish on anyone. We all understand, in theory, that life eventually comes to an end for each of us. But we don’t get to know the when, the how, or the where (which is a good thing). Still, it’s those of us left behind who struggle with the emotional aftermath that plagues our everyday thoughts.

Before November, I had never truly experienced loss. I’ve said goodbye to all of my grandparents — one I never had the chance to meet, and the others after they had lived long, full lives. Those funerals, were celebrations of life — filled with stories, laughter, and gratitude for the time we had with them.

These most recent losses were different. They were sudden, profound, and left a hole I never expected.

Our family has endured two unexpected losses that brought heartbreaking sadness to each of us. No one is ever truly prepared for the loss of a loved one. And while we may try to relate to one another, grief is deeply personal — impossible to compare from one person to the next. No one can fully understand the weight of your sorrow in any given moment except YOU.

Grief has a way of creeping in when you least expect it. A smell, a song, a photo, a message, or even a passing thought can instantly bring tears — sometimes in the most inconvenient or public of places. What I’ve come to understand is this: it’s OK to cry whenever you need to. It’s OK to grieve for as long as your heart needs. It’s OK to feel angry or overwhelmed by the unfairness of your situation. It’s OK to be quiet, withdrawn, or simply not ready to talk. And it’s absolutely OK to tell others that you are not OK.

Grief is a universal experience — something we all face at some point in our lives. For some, it arrives early; for others, later. Regardless of when it comes, it changes the way we think, feel, and interact with the world around us.

One of the hardest parts for me has been realizing that while my world was altered, everything around me kept moving. My job didn’t change. My responsibilities didn’t pause. The expectations I placed upon myself remained the same. Grief quietly made everything a bit more complex.

What I have learned through these unfortunate and unexpected losses......

No one can prepare you for it all to be over

No one can prepare you to understand fully the reality of what happened

No one can prepare you to never see a handwritten note again

No one can prepare you to make sense of the unpredictable feelings that surface

No one can prepare you to never hear their voice again

No one can prepare you to go without their hugs - or the chance to give them

No one can prepare you for the void that nothing else can fill

No one can prepare you that they will never walk through your doors again

No one can prepare you for the beautiful memories that are plentiful

No one can prepare you for the signs - those quiet, mysterious moments - that seem to appear out of nowhere

No one can prepare you for all of the 'firsts' without them

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With today being Mother's Day, it's been a tough day — and honestly, the days leading up to it have been just as difficult. Every year, I’d pick out a funny card for my mom (I always had the sense she preferred those over the sentimental ones), and I’d make sure to call and talk with her. During our conversation, she’d usually tell me which of my siblings she’d already spoken to.

She was always the first to send a group text to all the girls in the family on Mother’s Day. That’s how the day would begin, every single year. And now, the quiet without a text message or a call is what's missing.

🩷 Until we meet again, mom and Faithy 🩷