Like everybody else I knew Gord Downie was dying, from an aggressive form of brain cancer that grows fast and spreads quickly.
But I was amazed at how long he lasted before death finally claimed him.
I was impressed by all the things he managed to do in the time he had left.
And nothing moved me more than this.
I never heard the story of Chanie Wenjack, an Ojibway boy who lived in Northern Ontario, until today.
And although it made me feel terribly sad, I'm glad I did.
Because it couldn't be a more Canadian story, or a more powerful story of resistance.
Even if it ended so tragically.
They are images that should haunt every Canadian. Native children taken away from the parents by the RCMP and sent to residential schools with more cemeteries than playgrounds.
And even though our generation wasn't to blame for that story of brutality and attempted cultural genocide, we can't look away or ignore the problem.
Because it is still an open wound that needs healing.
And as the Globe points out, it was, it is, and it will always be our story. Canada's story.
