I love my wife. My wife is dead (1946)

It's beautiful :))

What a turbulence of emotions and thoughts this invokes in me; I envy this guys beautiful and rich love for his wife, since I haven't felt similar myself.

Simultaneously I also really feel for him and the grief and miss that comes from losing someone you love; I still somewhat often talk to my mother who passed to remind her that I still think of her and out of love.

These emotions are ambiguously painful and meaningful.

I did not know Feynman was responsible for finding the cause of the Challenger explosion. That's remarkable on top of everything else he did.

On one hand I am happy that we have things like Marcus Aurelius' Meditations, on the other I feel that peoples private and unpublished writings should be kept private. It's reasonable enough to let a limited number of researchers access private documents, but the broader public, no.

This isn't a letter meant for us, it's not meant for anyone to read and I feel that publishing it is a little disrespectful.

My wife died 10 years ago, so I understand that pain. Dealing with death is never easy. The thing I miss most about my wife is the depth of emotional connection; she knew everything about me being very deeply in love with me and everything I did really mattered to her. It has taken me nearly 10 years to build a network of friends who can give me comparable levels of socialization and attention; I have about two dozen very close friends (both male and female) across the world now and it’s finally enough to replace the hole in my life I had which my wife used to fill.

I can see why Feynman became sexually promiscuous afterwards, undoubtedly to numb the pain of losing his wife; seduction allowed him to have a form of that connection, albeit without the depth and love of what he had with his wife. While that path looked appealing to me, I do not regret avoiding that temptation.