Allan Gates is the co-founder of Huddle, and a Tragically Hip fan.

How do we say goodbye to Gord Downie?

That’s what hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of Canadians will wrestle with on Saturday when the Tragically Hip play their final show in their hometown of Kingston, Ont.

People are gathering together across the country to watch this last show, and contemplating a Canada without the Hip.

Those who love the Tragically Hip, and there are many, know they are more than a band.

When the Hip broke out, they brought people together, from indie music snobs to classic rockers to pop divas. Pretty much everyone loved the Hip – as long as you were Canadian.

The rest of the world never caught on. Maybe you couldn’t be the biggest band in the world if you were the biggest band in Canada. They were, it was often said, too Canadian (as if that is a bad thing).

It’s a cliché now to describe Gord Downie as Canada’s poet laureate, but who else could claim the title? He wove together elements of our history, our myths and our national psyche to tell us stories about who we are as a nation and as a people.

His metaphors are swirling, elliptical, not easy to discern into meaning. Yet we all still knew what he meant. He is that good.

When the news broke earlier this year that Gord was suffering from terminal brain cancer, we all reeled in shock. Gord was bedrock. The Hip were eternal.

How could we lose this whirling dervish, this magnetic performer, this charismatic icon of our national identity? Who will tell our stories now?

Has a country anywhere ever said a bittersweet goodbye like this to someone loved so dear? Like everything else about the Hip, it is uniquely Canadian. In theatres, bars, community centres and living rooms across Canada we will sing along loud and proud with Gord and the rest of the boys on Saturday night.

But there will be tears in our eyes.

Courage Gord.