Richard Feynman is one of my heroes... not just because he was an amazing thinker, but because of how deeply he loved his wife. She died of tuberculosis when she was 25, and he wrote a letter to her 16 months later... it was unopened until his death.

It's such a beautiful letter that I thought I would share part of it. Here is the second half:

<< When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn’t have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true — you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else — but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.

I know you will assure me that I am foolish and that you want me to have full happiness and don't want to be in my way. I'll bet you are surprised that I don't even have a girlfriend (except you, sweetheart) after two years. But you can't help it, darling, nor can I — I don't understand it, for I have met many girls and very nice ones and I don't want to remain alone — but in two or three meetings they all seem ashes. You only are left to me. You are real.

My darling wife, I do adore you.

I love my wife. My wife is dead.

Rich.

PS Please excuse my not mailing this — but I don't know your new address. >>

The rest of the letter is here:
http://www.lettersofnote.com/2012/02/i-love-my-wife-my-wife-is-dead.html