Even after 14 years, I can't read this without crying. Can you?

It seems like half a lifetime ago already. My wife had died quite suddenly a few months before, and I was in the early throws of a new relationship with Julie, to whom I am now married. It was an emotional time all round.

I was driving home from the airport after a business trip to Berlin. I needed some company, so I switched on the BBC’s talk channel, Radio 4. The program just starting was “From our own correspondent.”

Normally this show consisted of reports from BBC staffers in various locations around the world – one week a war report, the next an economic update from Tokyo.

The announcer told us that the correspondent in question this week was to be Fergal Keane. I was pleased. I knew he was based in Hong Kong, and I was interested to hear the latest news from my place of birth.

I turned up the radio to enjoy Fergal’s gentle Irish brogue.

Within moments, the tears were flowing so fast I couldn’t continue driving. I had to pull over. It took me ten minutes to regain my composure.

It’s a piece of writing I revisit at least once a month. It’s so perfect, so spare, and yet so full of meaning. If ever I want for motivation to continue writing, it serves as a reminder to me of how powerful this medium can be.

I’d really like to share it with you:  Letter to Daniel