As the sun rose on a balmy evening in the hills of rural England, I was reminded of the night before.

A beautiful evening in a country where the air is sweet and the trees are still green.

The sounds of the sea, the rustle of leaves on the wind, the crunch of leaves in the dirt, the gentle sounds of a hand on the table.

I felt like I was at the home of a beautiful song.

And I couldn’t stop singing.

I sang it until I stopped.

I went back to the studio and changed the song.

I added lyrics, changed the instrument, and rewrote it.

And it was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.

The song that brought me back to life, I wrote to the man who made it.

This is what he wrote: I was born with a beautiful voice, I learned how to play it, I played it well.

I had a beautiful singing voice, too.

But I had to sing it in a way that didn’t hurt anyone.

I tried singing to others and didn’t hear back.

Then I started playing the piano, and it wasn’t just me.

It was a community of singers.

The songs that people sang to me changed the world, but the ones that I had written to my father changed me too.

It took me years to learn to sing to myself.

But one day, as I sat in the studio, a stranger came up to me and asked if I wanted to sing a song.

He played me the song I wrote and asked me what I wanted it to sound like.

I thought that was amazing.

I could see the song’s message and knew it was for me.

So, the song was written, and when I finished it, the words in the piano started to ring out.

“This is my piano song.”

The words were the same as I wrote them when I was a child, but now I was singing them to myself every day.

“You are the sun, my sunshine, my sky, I am the wind.”

The song was sung by the father of a man who had passed away.

He was not a hero, and he was not someone who stood up for the rights of others, but he was a man whose words helped change the world for the better. 

I remember the first time I saw the song that had brought me to life and realized that the man I knew was the man that was born and raised here.

The man who gave me the strength to become the man he was, and who had the courage to take the fight to the very top.

I met this man, who had lost his wife and his home and his family, when I visited my dad’s grave.

I didn’t know anything about his life before that day.

I knew he had been a miner, but I didn’st know what the word mine meant.

But now I knew, and I remembered the day he was born.

His mother died when he was two years old.

I sat with my father’s ashes in my lap.

He told me how he had died.

I asked him about his wife.

He replied, “She died of typhoid fever when she was just seven.”

He said he was just like me.

I looked at my dad and told him how much he meant to me, and how much my mother meant to him, and that he was one of the greatest people I had ever met. 

This story is part of BBC America’s documentary ” The Man Who Changed Me “.

Listen to more stories from BBC America: The Man Who Sucked  about a man who stole his father’s business, and The Woman Who Sucks  also about a woman who lost her husband, and  The Devil That Sucks about the man whose daughter is sexually assaulted and the man who has a heart attack.

BBC America has created a special online channel for people to find out more about the people behind the stories they love, and to help tell their own stories.