A few days ago, the world marked sixty years since the first human flight into space. That man was Yuri Gagarin.

We bring you the letter Yuri Gagarin wrote to his wife and daughters two days before his first flight into space on 12 April 1961, together with some very interesting glimpses into their family life.

The letter was to be given to his wife Valentina only if something went wrong. In fact the mission was a success, and after one hour and 48 minutes of flight, Gagarin returned to earth, landing in the Saratov region, about 850 kilometres south-east of Moscow. However, what amounted to his spiritual last testament was delivered to his wife seven years later, on 27 March 1968, when he lost his life in a plane crash. This moving farewell letter contains very powerful words about a man's devotion to his calling and to life, and it brings to mind man's first journey into space.

Yuri Gagarin was born in the village of Klushino in 1934, and spent his childhood on a farm, where his mother was responsible for milk production and his father worked as a carpenter. He funded his studies by working in a foundry in Moscow, and managed to nurture his passion for flying and gain the qualifications needed to be accepted into the air force. At the age of twenty-seven, after passing through a gruelling selection process, he was chosen to lead the Vostok 1 mission, becoming the first man to fly into space. "Up here, I don't see any God." That is the famous phrase attributed to Gagarin. But he probably never said it. Valentin Petrov, a former cosmonaut, confirmed a few years ago that Gagarin, who had been baptised in the Orthodox Church, was a believer. This was also confirmed by his friend Alexei Leonov, another legend of cosmonautics. His daughter Helena was baptised, and the family always celebrated Christmas and Easter.

Yuri Gagarin and Valentina Ivanovna first met when they were both in their twenties, at a dance evening at the Orenburg Aviation Academy, and fell in love at once. Of that first meeting he says: "I liked everything about her: her character, her small figure, her eyes  the colour of golden hazelnut, her braids and her freckled nose. After ten years of school, Valya Goryacheva took a job at the telegraph office. Dressed in a very simple blue dress, Valya struck me with her shy manner. I asked her to dance a waltz, and that is how our great friendship began." Once she wrote to him: "And remember that knowing how to wait is a great art. Keep these feelings of yours for happier days." Friendship grew into love. They soon married and had two daughters.

Valya, a nursing student, was the youngest of six children. She would tell her mother about me: "He's been sharpening his teeth on the granite of learning. He's been in school his whole life." Together they enjoyed reading and going to the theatre, and especially discussing what they had seen and read. They shared the news of Sputnik's historic flight and Nikita Khrushchev's announcement that a man would be sent into space as soon as conditions allowed. From the moment he learned of Sputnik, Gagarin secretly knew he would join the space programme, and he even began sketching his own ideas for spacecraft. He studied Tsiolkovsky's theories of space flight.

When he wanted to tell her the news of the first flight into space, and that he thought it would be him, he said, jokingly:

"I'm boarding for space. Get this case ready for me with a little linen." "Everything is already ready," Valya replied.

"That was when I realised she already knew everything. For the first time I told Valya that man's flight into space was now very close, and that the choice might fall on me. Then I did my best to explain to Valya the reasons behind my hopes. And from her face, which suddenly grew serious, from her expression, from her changed voice, from the slight trembling of her lips, I understood that Valya was proud and, at the same time, anxious. But she didn't want to say anything to me, so as not to worry me. We spent the night without sleeping, talking about the past and making plans for the future. We could already see our grown, married daughters, and ourselves looking after our grandchildren. Our life would go smoothly, without war or discord, as we believed it would under communism. Then, when all the arguments were exhausted, I wanted Valya to tell me what she thought about what awaited me." She answered: "If you're sure of yourself, just go. Everything will be fine."

In his farewell letter before the flight, Yuri writes: "Greetings, my dear, so beloved Valechka, Lenochka and Galochka! I have decided to write you a few lines so that you can take part in this (the first flight into space) and share with you the joy and happiness that have come to me today. It was precisely  today that the government commission decided to send me up first. You know, dear Valyusha (another diminutive for Valentina), how happy I am, and I would like you to be happy with me too. An ordinary man has been entrusted with such a great mission for the state: to blaze the trail into space for the first time! Can anything greater be dreamed of? Yes, this is history; this is a new age. I have to leave in a day's time. In the meantime you will go on with your own activities. A great task rests on my shoulders. At first I wanted to spend some time with you and talk with you. But, unfortunately, you are far away. Even so, I always feel you right here beside me. I trust the technology completely. It must not fail.

But it could happen that a person falls on some flat surface and breaks their neck. Something could happen on this occasion too. Personally, I don't believe in that possibility. However, if something does happen, I ask you, first and foremost you, Valyushka - not to be overcome by grief. Because life is life, and no one has any guarantee that a car won't run them over tomorrow. Please, look after our little girls, love them as I love them. Bring them up, please, not as lazy or spoiled, but as true people who are not afraid of the harshness of life. Bring up people worthy of the new communist society. In any case, live your life as your conscience dictates, as you see fit. I place no obligations on you, and I have no right to.

It turns out this letter is far too sad. I myself don't believe it  will happen. I hope you never see it. I will be ashamed of myself for this passing weakness. But if something does happen, you should be told everything. I have lived honestly, sincerely, for the good of people, even if it was not anything great. Even as a boy, I read what V. P. Chkalov (a pioneer of Soviet aviation) said: "If I have to be the one, I have to be first." Now I too will try to be like that, and to be like that to the end. I would like, Valechka, to dedicate this flight to the people of the new communist society to which we too belong, to our great Homeland, to our science. I hope that in a few days we will be together again, happy. Valechka, please don't forget my parents; if you have the chance, help them. Give them my greetings: may they forgive me for never having known anything of all this; it would not have been good for them to know. Well, I think that's all. Goodbye, my dear ones."

A big hug and a kiss, with greetings, your dad, Yuri. 10-04-1961.

After the plane crash and the death of her husband Yuri, Valentina gave no interviews. She took part in events dedicated to the first cosmonaut, met the country's leading figures, and helped the Yuri Gagarin Museum, to which she donated her husband's personal belongings. In 1981 Valentina Ivanovna wrote the first book in memory of Gagarin, "108 Minutes and a Whole Life."

She lived in Star City, in the Shchelkovsky district of the Moscow region, on the 4th floor of building number 2. From her windows she could see the monument to her husband, holding a daisy pressed in the palm of his hand.

Elena Gagarina, speaking about her father's private life, says:  "For me he was always the world's first cosmonaut, and his whole life was bound up with space and the exploration of space. What he liked to talk to me about was his childhood – what it was like growing up in Smolensk, and about the war under German occupation.

My father was interested in literature and history his whole life. His love of history was very much alive - as if he himself had taken part in it. I remember one day he drove my sister and me to Borodino – the battlefield where Napoleon's army fought the Russian army – and it was as if he knew every detail of the battle, bringing the events back to life and showing us what happened and where. He also recited poetry about the battle to us, and I remember being impressed by his knowledge. It was the same when he was a student in Samara, and later in St Petersburg and Moscow. He learned as much as he could about the history of the cities he lived in - he was curious and interested in everything. He often told us about books and literature, and he loved reciting poetry to us, out loud. He knew a great deal of poetry by heart and loved encouraging us to recite it too.

I receive a great many photographs and memories from different people who met him, and if I meet someone who remembers 12 April, or remembers meeting him, they always tell me about it. It is always a pleasure for me. He wrote a letter for my mother in which he says he probably won't come back, because the flight was very dangerous, and that he doesn't want her to be left alone in that case. But he never gave her the letter. She found it by chance among his things when he returned. He didn't want her to find it, and told her to throw it away. But of course, she kept it.

The training of the first cosmonauts was extremely harsh, and it tested the limits of human capability. Since we lived surrounded by cosmonauts, many of whom are friends of our family, we know some of the terrible things they had to go through, and the fact that every flight carried so much danger. They never spoke of these hardships and dangers. I think only someone with very good health, a very good education, and a mind that works very quickly could cope with this calling. He was curious and interested in everything. He loved reading, had a very good memory, and spent 20 hours a day working throughout his adult life. Everything interested him.

My father was certainly a family man. Although it may  seem otherwise, his life was not a secret life, but like people who worked for the military, they never talk about their work at home, and they never want their wives or children to know what is going on, because they don't want them to worry. "