In my 40 years of journalism, nothing has felt remotely as difficult as writing this, because the emotions are still so raw.
A few weeks ago, I bade 'happy travels' to my dear friend and longtime New Zealand Herald sports writing colleague David Leggat, who was getting ready fora family adventure in Europe.
David and his wife Jacqui Bensemann were travelling with one son, and meeting up with the other in London. This is what life should be all about, the joy of anticipation, fresh fields, with the people who mean the most.
Now, I am writing a tribute to "Leggo", who has passed away suddenly while swimming in Lake Como, Italy, at the age of 64.
It feels heart-breaking and surreal, and the mourners will include - I can safely say - much of the sports writing and media community around New Zealand. For he was a truly unique and special character, of unforgettable charisma, warmth and charm.
David Leggat was long a central part of our industry and in recent years the undisputed elder statesman.
He started out at the Christchurch Press when a major newspaper still had room for club table tennis coverage, he worked for the New Zealand Press Association as sports boss and London-based representative, and he had a number of roles at the New Zealand Herald/NZME including sports editor.
Sports readers will know him through his coverage of just about everything, from his first calling - cricket - to Commonwealth and Olympic Games, Rugby World Cups, and so much more.
Sports writers will remember him just as much for the bonhomie, the generous nature, the endless stories, the tag of being a champion tourist during the age of long sports tours, the cutting critiques of no discernible malice, the natural ability to take humble command, the self-deprecating humour, the overall humour, the phrases, the lunches, the afternoon teas, the morning teas.
New Zealand Herald journalist David Leggat looks over the New Zealand All Blacks team list at the Phillips Tri-Nations team announcement in 2006. Photo / Getty Images.
He has left an impact on so many people, but this story really summed him up.
Sports broadcaster Andrew Alderson recalled - with reverence - being a nervous rookie on a New Zealand cricket tour and hearing a knock on his hotel door. Leggat - the veteran - was going out of his way, making sure the newbie knew about the touring media dinner and felt welcome. Alderson has never forgotten this simple yet easily overlooked gesture.
My favourite Leggat travel story concerned the 2002 Commonwealth Games, which we covered in Manchester.
Leggo was in charge of the company's cash and for two days I'd lived on meagre rations until we managed to meet up, so he could hand over a pile of twenty-pound notes.
Within the hour I was eagerly licking my lips at a curry house, only to be told the money was no longer legal tender. Before leaving Auckland, Leggo had apparently grabbed leftover cash from a previous overseas assignment.
I can't recall his response to my despair and rumbling stomach, but it may have been along the lines of "sorry about that champ". He loved the word "champ".
His own stories went on much longer than those above, and they might be described as a series of detours expertly cobbled together.
These tales were littered with nicknames such as 'The Knight' (Sir Richard Hadlee), or Harry Potter (Daniel Vettori), and his stories took on a special meaning when they involved cricket.
He grew up around Christchurch cricket royalty - his test cricketer father Gordon became a national selector, team manager and chairman of New Zealand Cricket until his death at the age of just 46.
Herald journalist David Leggat during a Blacks Sticks media briefing in 2014. Photo / Photosport.co.nz
And yes, in keeping with this, David Leggat's memorable work travelled familiar territory, such as a piece on the death of Martin Crowe, a sparkling column recounting how the Kiwi legend pranked him on a tour, then recalling a moment that revealed the frustration Crowe often felt about falling short as a cricketer.
He might lament, beautifully, on the departure of Bill Lawry from Australian cricket commentary boxes or - as he did in 2016 - give a decent and hugely read serve to an Eden Park crowd.
He didn't let cricket obscure his view though.
The files are packed with his stories on sports people great and small, including the first ever mention in the New Zealand Herald of a certain Lydia Ko, who had shot a round of 98 in the national golf amateurs and "skipped down the Titirangi fairways" like any other seven-year-old.
Without overtly championing the cause of women's sport, he did so by covering it like anything else. There were stories on Lisa Carrington, Eliza McCartney, and so many more. Women's hockey became something of a treasure to him, and I believe the last piece he ever filed, for Newsroom, was a memory lane story on the White Ferns.
He loved writing about sports people, and from what I could gather the feeling was mutual.
Journalists also loved working with him, and it wasn't just for the warm experience. He filled vast spaces with precision and class, and ran the department with similar aplomb.
He was regarded as a "print editor's dream" as one boss put it, capable of having three pieces on the go at once - say a column, profile and news story, all cleanly written, on time, while still being engaged in the office conversation around him.
Leggo had mastered the ability to juggle balls in the air with the best of them.
Only those who have held key news media positions can understand how difficult that is to achieve, day after day after day.
He was, to put it simply, a fully rounded sports journalist from another age, and his belief that many things deserved at least some coverage survived into a digital era where analysis said this was not the case.
I've got no idea how to say goodbye to David Leggat, and I won't try.
His spirit will live on for me, always.
And that leaves the last word to a veteran sportswriter from an opposition outfit, who reckoned - on hearing of his passing - that Leggo's company always made him feel so much better.
