My wife died in 2018. When I remember my late spouse, my new wife doesn’t seem to get jealous.

• Katie Zicarelli Gesell is a 34-year-old grief therapist who lives in Phoenix
• Her late wife unexpectedly died in 2018 after less than a year of marriage.
• When Katie was sick, her new spouse brought her the blanket of her late wife for comfort.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Katie Zicarelli Gesell. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I met Melissa, my first wife, when she contacted me online about my blog on long-distance relationships. When we met for the first time in 2015 our connection was instant. Conversation flowed and it felt like we had known each other forever. We started dating, and by 2017, we were married.

We decided on November 11 as our wedding date because we’d always text “I love you” when the clock read 11:11. It was a beautiful wedding at an outdoor nature center in Michigan. I was in my final year of grad school, and we were excited to spend time together without the added pressure of school. I loved Melissa so much, but it was shorter-lived than I would have hoped for.

She died shortly after

Only 10 months after we married, on September 3rd, 2018, Melissa suddenly died of cardiac arrest at only 27 years old. It was completely unexpected. Time just seemed frozen.

I lived in this complete fog, unable to fully understand what had happened. Even now, I don’t have many memories from the first three months after she died. I’d show up to work and stare at my computer screen, unable to function.

Melissa and I had a mutual friend, Emily, who checked up on me after Melissa’s death. She was always there and became a huge source of support for me through my grief.

I remember when we were in college, Emily and I had unsaid feelings for one another. Those feelings returned when we started spending more time together after Melissa’s death. We started dating in June 2019 and were married in October 2022.

My new wife never tried to erase my memories with my late wife

Throughout our relationship, Emily has never tried to erase my memories or love for Melissa.

In January 2025, I was really sick in bed with nausea. Emily came into the room and told me she had something for me. I thought it would be our cat. But then I saw it was Melissa’s Mexican-style blanket. “I brought this for you because this always gives you comfort when you’re not feeling good,” Emily told me as she covered me with it, tucking me in. It was no different than if she would have brought me any other comfort object. Such a sweet, simple gesture.

Melissa loved that blanket. After she died, I slept with it every night, eventually putting it away so the cats wouldn’t chew at it. I often get it out and wrap myself in it through the autumn when I’m reminded of Melissa’s birthday, her death, and our wedding anniversary.

I also often wear Melissa’s ring. In fact, I wore the ring when Emily and I had engagement and wedding photos taken. I now use “Zicarelli” as my middle name — previously my last name when married to Melissa.

Emily has never been threatened by the comfort I find in that blanket, ring, my name change, or any memories of Melissa.

I love her more for that

When I wrote about Emily’s lack of jealousy of my late spouse on Threads, I was surprised by the positive responses. In the past, I’ve been told it was disrespectful to my current partner to remember my past partner with such fondness — that I needed to move on. But not one person on Threads had a negative comment to say. It was really refreshing.

Nora McInerny, an author and widow I love, once said, “Love is not a competition, and a dead person is not much of a competitor.” That’s the way it should be in a new relationship with someone who has lost a spouse or partner. Emily often jokes, asking what she has to be jealous of — she knows I can’t leave her for my dead wife.

I believe that if you are going to be with someone who has been widowed, then you’ve got to know you are signing up to love someone who will always also love someone else. You must embrace that part of them, just as you’d embrace any other part of who they are.

Emily has let me love and remember Melissa without letting it threaten my love for her. And I love her all the more for it.