Bang the drum slowly so we don't have to say goodbye

Spent most of today at a funeral for a friend. I was doing okay until I saw his daughter, then not so okay. Waabgoni looks just like Dan...exactly. I thought of my own daughter too quickly and then I struggled to get back the balance I just had in the middle of all that.

I saw some old friends, like Shim, and Wiser, Beav and Qua...that was nice, and Brad made it out in time to see hawks soaring above the beating drum and singers, in time to offer tobacco and cedar, and to join in with all the other boys who traded their hockey sticks for shovels on this sunny day. We shovelled dirt onto the casket, the lot of us, and that was harder than I expected, but it made me proud too.

The hawks floating above gave me shivers, but we didn't need their hovering to tell us that Danny was special. Most of us knew that since we were small. When the drums finally stopped beating some of us shared some laughs. It made me proud of where I come from and who I know, even of what I've been so lucky to do. When we all said goodbye and went our own ways it struck me that Danny left us with more than one legacy. Those were awkward goodbyes, and I won't say that word as lightly as I have in the past, not anymore. At least the rest of us still have the chance to say it to one another. This was the last time we would say it Dan.

Baamaapii ggwaabimin, Piidaankwod. Racing cloud, huh? You never told me that was your name. It was a good name. We'll see each other again someday.