When The Circle Grows Smaller

As days move into weeks, and weeks into months, and now months into years, I’ve learned a hard truth I never wanted to know—that not everyone who says “I’ll never leave you behind” means it. In the early days of Tim’s PNES, there were voices everywhere—promises of prayers, words of encouragement, hands reaching out to help us stand. But as time went on, those voices grew quieter. The phone calls stopped. The visits faded. The texts that once came without fail now sit in silence. People I thought were friends, even family, have slipped away into their own lives, leaving a space where their presence used to be.

My heart is broken in ways I can’t always put into words. This journey—watching the man I love fight a battle that can strike without warning, holding my breath through each seizure, picking up the pieces after each emotional storm—has drained me in ways no one sees. And what makes it heavier is knowing that the people who once promised to stand beside us have quietly stepped aside, leaving me to carry this weight alone.

Loneliness has a way of making the days feel longer, the nights colder. There’s a special kind of ache in realizing that some people only walk with you when the road is smooth, but few are willing to stay when the ground turns rough and uneven. I wish they knew that their absence is not unnoticed—that every missed call, every unasked question of “How are you doing?” is felt in the deepest part of me.

Yet even in the emptiness, I have found something unexpected. I have learned that love is not measured by the size of your circle but by the depth of the few who remain. There are still moments of grace—those who have stayed, those who truly see us, those who show up in small but steady ways. And above all, I have learned that there is One who has never left, who has never once grown tired of my tears or turned away from my pain.

The burden is still heavy, my heart still weary, but I carry it knowing that while human hands may let go, God’s hand never does. He is here in the silence. He is here in the long nights. He is here when my knees give way under the weight of it all. And somehow, that truth becomes enough to take the next step, even when the road ahead feels unbearably long.