Short letters, sent a few times a week, on mindset, psychology, and how high-caliber people think. If you're into that, it's free to subscribe.
Letter to my dead wife
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Hi friend, I know that you didn't sign up to cry today, but..it's... October 17, 1946
D’Arline,
I adore you, sweetheart.
I know how much you like to hear that, but I don’t only write it because you like it, I write it because it makes me warm all over inside to write it to you.
It is such a terribly long time since I last wrote to you, almost two years, but I know you’ll excuse me because you understand how I am, stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense to writing.
But now I know, my darling wife, that it is right to do what I have delayed in doing.
I want to tell you I love you.
I want to love you. I always will love you.
I find it hard to understand in my mind what it means to love you after you are dead, but I still want to comfort and take care of you.
I want you to love me and care for me.
I want to have problems to discuss with you.
I want to do little projects with you. I never thought until just now that we can’t do that.
What should we do?
We started to learn to make clothes together, or learn Chinese, or get a movie projector.
Can’t I do something now?
No.
I am alone without you.
You were the “idea-woman” and general instigator of all our wild adventures.
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, 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.
P.S. Please excuse my not mailing this — but I don’t know your new address.
One of Nobel peace prize winning physicist, Richard Feyman's letters he wrote to his wife after she had passed from tucublosis. If you like'd this, you can do a deep dive into my previous articles here. Until next time, Much Love, Calvin P.S - This pulled on a major heart string and I had to share. Go find someone you love and give them a big hug. And do me a favor, hold them just a moment longer than usual. Just cause. From me to you: → Training App (PRFM): PRFM brings everything together, programming, cardio, mobility, and coaching support, so you never have to wonder what to do next. My goal is simple: to help you build the strength and endurance to stay active with your kids, take on races or competitions, and keep exploring the world without limits. It’s for people who want to keep performing, not just exercising. → 1:1 Online Coaching: If you're looking something more personal, I also take on a small handful of people for 1:1 online coaching. This is for those who want direct guidance, accountability, support and programming built around their unique goals and lifestyles. Follow me on social: |
Unexplored Letters
Short letters, sent a few times a week, on mindset, psychology, and how high-caliber people think. If you're into that, it's free to subscribe.
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