One

By Shane Kulman

Dear Enchantress,

I lost my wife three years ago. We were married for over two decades, and her absence still lives in the quiet moments of my day, when I make coffee, when I hear a song we loved, when I fall asleep. Grief has changed me, but it hasn’t closed my heart.

Recently, I began dating someone new. She is kind, warm, and very much alive in ways that remind me life continues. I care for her deeply. And yet, I feel caught between two truths: my love for the woman I lost and my growing feelings for the woman in front of me.

My girlfriend says she understands, but I can feel the tension, like she’s standing in the shadow of someone she can never compete with. I don’t want to minimize my grief, but I also don’t want my past to poison what could be a beautiful future. I worry I’m asking her to share space with a ghost, and I don’t know how to make that fair.

How do I honor the love I had without making my new partner feel like she’s living in second place?

Is it possible to love fully again without betraying the memory of the person I lost?

Thank you, I look forward to your answer.

Dear One,

What you are experiencing is not a failure of love; it is evidence of it. Long love does not disappear when a body leaves. It changes form. Grief is not a rival to new love; it is proof that you are capable of depth, devotion, and endurance. The task before you is not to erase the past, but to right-size it.

You are not asking your new partner to compete with a ghost. You are asking her to love a man who has lived fully and lost deeply. The danger is not that you remember your wife; the danger is when memory becomes an unspoken third presence in the room. Silence creates shadows. Naming brings light.

Honor your late wife privately and deliberately. Create rituals that belong to your grief alone: a journal, a place, a time where remembrance is held with care. When grief has a container, it is less likely to spill into places where it doesn’t belong. This allows your current relationship to be a living relationship, not a shrine you both must tiptoe around.

With your girlfriend, lead with reassurance, not apology; this is an element of communication that goes beyond words. Let her know, clearly, that your love for your wife is not a ceiling on what you can feel now. Love is not a finite resource; it is a muscle strengthened by use. Tell her what is different about loving her. Speak in the present tense. Choose her not as a replacement, but as a distinct and irreplaceable person.

It is also important to listen. Ask her where she feels uncertain, where comparison creeps in. Her discomfort does not mean she is insecure; it means she is human. When she feels seen and chosen, the ghost loses its power.

You may also need patience with yourself. Loving again can stir guilt, fear, and loyalty binds you never consented to consciously. Let those feelings pass without letting them steer. You are allowed to want companionship, touch, laughter, and future plans. Wanting life does not dishonor loss; it honors survival.

Loving again does not betray the dead. Staying emotionally frozen would. Your wife loved a man capable of connection; honoring her means continuing to live as that man. Memory and desire can coexist. Grief and joy can share a body.

The goal is integration, not replacement. Your past love is part of your story, not the editor of your future. When you allow both truths to breathe, the love that was and the love that is, you model something rare and beautiful: a heart expanded, not divided.

You are not living in second chapters. You are living in a longer book. And this chapter matters deeply too. Right now and always.

With warmth and care,
The Enchantress

For more information with working with Shane, and to ask her a question for this column, email her at Love@enchantedembodiment.com