Each year around this time I try and make it up to Ohio to see the family. This year was our granddaughter's 13th birthday. We couldn't make it up there for her actual birthday, so we went up this past weekend.

Sitting there at the table that morning I realized that I hadn't been to my Father's grave site this year. So I told the wife that I wanted to stop by there before we left for home. As we pulled up into the cemetery, it dawned on me that this Monday was the anniversary of his passing, and that it would be 24 years this year since he went on into the great mystery. since that time he has been joined by my Mother, his brother Charles, and his brother-in-law Charles.

As I thought about what I would tell him (for we always talk, like we used to talk when we went hunting) a flock of Great Northern passed over us and circled back to land near the Veteran's Memorial where he is buried. I stood and listened to them calling to each other and to the wind moving the leaves of the trees at the edge of the cemetery. The rain that had been falling had stopped and the clouds broke a little, showing some of the sky.

I went back to the van and opened the bag I had brought with me. Suddenly it dawned on me why I brought what I did; he needed a smudging and prayers. So I prepared the bowl with cedar, sage and sweet grass. The wind died down as I lit the bowl, and blew lightly into it to fan the glowing embers and the smoke began to rise. After smudging and preparing myself, I began to smudge the area where he lay and the gift that I had brought with me, not knowing it was to be a gift to him at the time. The gift was a bar turkey feather. After I was done, I cut five inches of the colored yarn from my own prayer feather and bound it to the feather with the sinew cord I had brought with me interweaving them together. I then placed the feather in the sleeve that holds the vase on his stone.

I could feel his presence strong there beside me, and as I stood up another flock of Northern came over calling and turning to land and rest there with the others.

Even after 24 years, my Father had taught me a lesson again. We are never truly gone. Our spirit always walks with those we have known and loved as well as those that we have fought. For in this life we make our impressions by fighting for those things that we believe in. We fight for our honor, our word, for the respect due us and our kind. A warrior does not turn away from his duty no matter what. If it was meant to be easy, anyone could do it. There would be no need for sacrifice, or for a code to live by. Our word and our honor are one. People know us and remember us by it; what we do and say.

We as human beings can blame any number of things for our failures; but the truth is it is we who are responsible for what we do each day. As we live our life in this world, we build our home in the next. And if we are uncertain as to what we need to do at times, then all we really need to do is look up. Quit staring at the ground and see the answer staring us in the face.

As a human being we do what is right for those around us, and things will be right for us.

Being NDN is a way of life; and it is not always an easy one. Nor is it one where there may be loads of money or fame. But it is one where people will always know you for what you are, and what you represent.