The forest is silent and still, as if it is waiting for some grand event. Tom wants to die the way our ancestors did. He wants to see death come, and go to meet it as a friend.

He already leaves us for long periods, when he seems to go deep down into himself. He’s dreaming about his long life as a hunter, a trapper, about all those trips that he’s made by canoe, on snowshoe or on foot, all the loads he’s carried.

Then the air whistles in his throat like a violent wind hammering through the rocky ridges of the mountains. Heavy beads of sweat form on his forehead and gray temples.

Manie wipes his face with a damp towel. She talks to him in a gentle, hushed voice. Tom regains consciousness again. He smiles. His eyes are wide open now, calm as the surface of the lake just before night falls.

“Miguetsh, Manie! Thank you. It’s good to have you here.” He wets his lips. “You know that I only have one regret…” Manie stops. She places the towel on his forehead and waits. “That I wasn’t able to marry you this autumn!” He smiles.

“Tom, you never change!”

“No…I don’t regret a thing. I thank the great creator for everything. I have had the great privilege of living a long life, and now I’m like an old tree in the forest. One day it only takes the smallest breeze to make it topple, but when it falls, it opens the way for the sun to reach the ground so other trees can grow.”

His voice becomes anxious.

“Manie, I regret nothing, but I am sad. I am afraid for the future of the Anishnabe.”

Exhausted, Tom shuts his eyes. Only his short breaths tell us that he is still alive. The deep lines on his face relax. Kneeling at his side, I wonder where his spirit is. What territory is it traveling through?

At midnight he opens his eyes again. He looks at each one of us in turn. Sam lights the candles. We look like ghosts bathed in the yellow light.

Tom motions to Manie, and she leans over as he whispers his last wishes. She sits up again slowly, her cheeks glistening. She kisses him on the forehead, one hand on his head, the other over his hands that are crossed on his stomach. She cries for old Tom as if she were crying for her own child.

While Charlotte, Pinamen and Sam say goodbye and kiss his forehead, Manie hands me the towel.

“Nipishish, you’ll stay with him until he dies. It’s what he wants.”

I am deeply moved, and happy to share these final moments alone with him.

Pinamen is the last to leave the tent. I am standing near the door. She folds herself into my arms and I hold her tightly.

“I’ll see you when the sun comes up,” I say.

“I’ll wait for you.”