He had given so much without ever asking for anything in return - and eventually he had nothing left in the tank for himself or for his wife Ani and their whanau.
When I looked around at his tangi I could see the true meaning of mana from a man who gave all his life.
When we can start to measure success with mana and not money, then and only then will the wrongs of this world be put right.
And Awa knew this better than anyone I have ever met.
I guess that's why we clicked, coupled with we both shared the belief that the taiaha of knowledge is the weapon for Maori to win future challenges.
Like all prophets with a future-focused message the demands on an orator of Awanui's calibre started to take its toll when we first became close mates five years ago.
And the demands just keep growing until his life revolved around hui-hopping with his taiaha in the back seat and a change of clothes in the boot.
And then on the 11th day of the 11th month he simply ran out of gas and I took him to hospital.
It was his birthday.
We both knew he had left his run too late and the chances of him coming out to be the best man at my wedding wasn't going to happen - so we went to plan B and he composed our wedding vows.
It was to be his final composition - from a man who had written the Maori dictionary and penned some of the most lyrical masterpieces of the modern kapa haka genre.
But there was a wider world view deep within the intellect of this highly intelligent human being that I was privileged to call a mate.
We were both closet Buddhists, part-time hippies and worshippers of Uncle Bob, totally esoteric in some of our philosophical beliefs, and we were both prolific readers and writers.
And we both were committed to the inconvenient truth about what was right and wrong with the world and how it could be saved at this very late midnight hour.
I guess it came from the lessons learned at the peaceful protest at Parihaka and the similar one being staged today at Standing Rock in Dakota by the Sioux Indians.
We dreamed big, me and Awa. Dreams cost nothing and we had bugger-all anyway.
Tauranga Hospital and - most importantly - the Awhi Angels, the nurses, the doctors, the cleaners and the caterers who made Room 58 look and feel like a five-star hotel where Awa could sit cross legged and look out to his beloved Mauao, must be mentioned and thanked.
Awa had a bucket list of last wishes we shared in Room 58 of Ward 2c at the Tauranga Hospital.
His successor at regional council was a big one, as were the recipients of his valued collection of taonga.
The new Waikato University campus in downtown Tauranga and the new high-performance centre at the Mount excited him and when we would walk and talk with Paul Adams, the man behind these projects, his glasses and his ears and nose would get a clean out and the academic Awa really kicked in.
They say that the mana of a man is measured by the content of his korero and the size of his tangi and on both these counts the legacy left by Te Awanuiarangi Black is without equal in Tauranga Moana.
We dreamed big, me and Awa. Dreams cost nothing and we had bugger-all anyway.
Back Black, his electoral campaign slogan, was one of our winners on our $100 budget.
But win we did, and all we had to do next time was add one word from Back Black to Bring Black Back and bugger me, we won again.
Clever Maori eh!!!
But even though we got him elected we couldn't bring him back, not then and not now.
Magic times ...
We had planned to get married on a beach in Bali.
No, not me and Awa. He was to be my best man when I married Sarah.
Very far east and far out.
It's that 11-11 Buddhist thing again remember?
But sadly, we both knew that wasn't going to happen and not even Buddha or Jesus was going to bring him back.
So, at exactly 11 minutes past 11 while Awa sat up like a Buddha in his hospital bed in room 58 reciting ancient karakia, Sarah and I got married with the vows Awa had written for us.
It would be the last words he would ever write.
So how do you fill a void left by such a beautiful human being?
I don't know the answer to that and I am struggling to accept he has gone.
If there is an answer it has to be in Awa's final words as we gathered around him in Room 58 at Tauranga Hospital.
He hadn't said anything for almost a day and a half, his eyes shut and almost gone.
Then he opened his eyes and looked left deep into the eyes of Ani as she cradled him in her arms.
Each hand was held by his beautiful Kuia Tirikawa and Nanny Janna.
It was as if a choir of angels were waiting above him to karanga him home.
And he softly said to her, "I love you" - and quietly slipped away.
I Love you Awa
We Love you Awa
Ko Tahi Aroha my Bro
