They said it could never be done. After decades of bigotry and hatred and suspicion, the shattered lives, the heartbreak and the hurt; the fear, the cynicism, the false dawns; the oceans of empty talk and the acres of newsprint, the god-awful spirit-sapping sameness of it all.
Was this it? Could this really be it? Yes. Pinch yourself. Remember the date: Easter Week, April 4th, 2007. A momentous day in Irish history and joy it was to be there.
It took an epic journey to prove it, but politics truly is the art of the possible. For years, as the tortured progress of the Northern Ireland peace process stuttered along, politicians and pundits talked of choreography. Positive developments seemed less important than the race to spot which party put a foot wrong.
There was no such talk at Farmleigh House yesterday, where the choreography was purely celestial. The grounds, bathed in glorious spring sunshine, carpets of daffodils and blue wood anemones provided a fitting backdrop for the extraordinary events to come.
Three minutes to 11 and word came through: "They're at the gate." Two cars rolled up the gravelled driveway. Taoiseach Bertie Ahern emerged from the old mansion, patting down his jacket as he waited to welcome his guest.
No big ceremony was laid on for Ian Paisley. His presence supplied the fanfare. Bertie bustled over, a wide smile on his face. Dr Paisley, the old warhorse, sprang from the car and met him halfway.
"Good morning!" boomed the leader of the Democratic Unionist Party. "I have to shake this man's hand! Give him a grip!"
With arm outstretched, he made an enthusiastic lunge for the Taoiseach. They shook hands. Bertie grasped the top of Big Ian's arm. Big Ian gave Bertie a manly wallop on the shoulder. They were like two auld farmers at a mart, striking a deal over a bullock.
The media looked on, dumbstruck. Ian Paisley of the Free Presbyterian Church, the Dr No of hardline Northern unionism, in Dublin and doing business with the leader of the Irish Republic in a building built on the proceeds of beer.
And that was it, the moment in Ireland's history we thought we would never see. Seismic, earth-shattering and over in a minute - but the symbolic importance of that handshake cannot be underestimated.
Countless lives and lifetimes to get to here. But at last, when Bertie met Ian, courage and hope finally got the chance to shine.
The meeting took place in the Library room. They sat opposite each other at a small square table. They ate egg and cress sandwiches and drank pots of tea. The mood was friendly and very relaxed, like they had been having these little tete-a-tetes for years.
The two men discussed practical issues, such as investment projects and tourism initiatives. Dr Paisley, who had previously only visited the Pope's heathen South to protest, marvelled at the growth of Dublin.
The atmosphere was friendly. There were no awkward moments.
Next month, Ian Paisley takes office as Northern Ireland's first minister, sharing power with Sinn Féin. The soon-to-be legislator and his vastly experienced Dublin counterpart swapped ideas.
They talked about the Battle of the Boyne site in Co Louth. Bertie invited Ian to visit it with him. Ian accepted and said he might even drop in for a preliminary look on his way home.
Their meeting went on longer than intended. Afterwards, they walked together into the sunlight. The media scrutinised their body language. It was good.
Taoiseach Ahern was beaming. Dr Paisley looked very relaxed. Bertie spoke first.
"At this important time in our history, we must do our best to put behind us the terrible wounds of our past and work together to build a new relationship between our two traditions." Big Ian nodded in agreement. "The future for this island has never been brighter. I believe that this is a future of peace, reconciliation and rising prosperity for all."
Then it was the Doc's turn. We remembered the man who spat fire and venom at politicians from the South. We remembered the man who marched to Carson's statue and swore "No Surrender!"
We remembered the man who was jostled and jeered when the Belfast Agreement was endorsed by the people of the North and we remembered the survivor who used that unswerving opposition to revive his political fortunes.
The voice is not as strong as it once was, but the preacher can still impart a message. "Some say hedges make the best neighbours, but that is not the case. I don't believe we should plant a hedge between our two countries," he began.
Journalists who have been writing about Ian Paisley for 30 years looked on in wonder. Was this really happening? As he spoke of being a proud Ulster man, it was hard not to feel moved. Spellbound, we waited for the "but" to arrive. It didn't.
"We both look forward to visiting the battle site at the Boyne, but not to refight it," said Dr Paisley with a chuckle. This was incredible stuff. "I look forward to future meetings and trust that old suspicions and discords can be buried forever under the prospect of mutual and respectful co-operation." Truly incredible.
When he finished, there was silence. The journalists looked at each other in disbelief. Nobody even attempted to ask a question.
What they really wanted to do was applaud. Afterwards, old hands wandered about, shaking their heads. "Is this a dream? Am I dreaming?" asked UTV's Ken Reid.
We weren't dreaming. Bertie gave Ian a book about Farmleigh. Ian gave Bertie a book written by his wife Eileen called Take a Break. Four hours later, the Government published its report on the Dublin/ Monaghan bombings that killed 33 people in 1974.
Ian Paisley's meeting with Bertie Ahern will forever stand as a magnificent milestone in this island's troubled history.
It was a privilege to be there.