Dear Daddy,
I did it. I guess you can finally say you're proud of me, because I've done it. I've gotten into the Wonderbolt Academy. Yeah, it's always been my dream and all, but now that it's a reality, I know I can do it. If I try hard, then I'll definitely get in. I just know I can. I have to. I've gone a long way, and it's not going to end here. I have a dream to fulfill, and I need to follow in your footsteps.
Last night, after I got the letter saying I was accepted, I visited your grave. It was really hard for me; I usually try not to bury myself in sorrow. But I felt as if I needed to.
I thought about a lot of things there. Things... things I wouldn't normally think about. I thought about dreams, and how they really can come true. To think that something you've longed for your entire life can actually be achieved... You just feel as if your life finally has some sort of meaning. That reminded me of you...
I really miss you, Dad. You shouldn't have gone when you did; it was hard for us all. After the fall, I couldn't stop blaming myself. And to be honest, it was my fault. There, I said it. It's my fault that you died. And I regret it every minute I live. It broke my heart that you died, and even more that I was the cause of it. If only I was faster, then I could have caught you before you fell into a pit of death, and, for me, a pit of depression. I'm so sorry, Dad.
Your death wasn't taken very well. We were all broken for a long time, and I couldn't stop crying. After the accident I tried to forget about you, but it didn't work. I couldn't stop thinking of you. My eyes weren't dry, my heart wasn't pure, and my soul wasn't alive.
I don't normally cry. It takes something pretty bad to make me cry... but I did. And sometimes, I still do cry... although I don't really want to admit it. Maybe it's best to admit this stuff here, it's kind of like closing the book, right? Except it's not, because I'll always be mourning you.
I know that in a situation like this, you would have told me not to mourn, but instead to just remember. Remember all the good times we've been through, and everything you've done for me. I realized that the good memories are the hardest to forget, and are the scariest to remember.
That just makes me feel worse.
I couldn't keep going without you, Dad. I needed some way to hold on to you, to never let you go. I needed to grasp onto the breeze you left behind in your dust, but it was intangible, and I was stopped by the barren force field of reality. You were gone.
But you're still here, I hope. Sometimes I imagine that you're watching over us; it's a pleasant thought that distracts me from the cold, hard truth that you're never coming back.
That was what hurt me the most. I was never able to make amends for all the fights we had and all the foolish things I've said and done. What's really important, though, is that through my downpours of complaints and insults, you still loved me. It was only after you left that I realized how much of an ass I was to you.
I needed to find a way to make up for that. You know how I was talking about dreams, earlier? When I said my dream was right there in front of me, and I only had a little way to go...?
I wasn't talking about becoming a Wonderbolt.
When you left us, all of my hopes and dreams were shattered, and I realized how terrible of a daughter I was to you...
I needed a way to fix my mistake. Yeah, I knew it was in vain. I knew you would never know, would never see, would never even love again. I guess it was selfish of me to try to fix that wrong, then. But it needed to be fixed.
So...
I changed my dream.
I no longer wanted to be a weather pony, or star in a Canterlot musical. Those were foolish dreams. I wanted to make you proud. That was my real dream, to make my father, or really, just my imagination of him, proud.
I longed for it more than those special razzleberry pancakes you made on Sundays. I loved it more than watching you and mom kiss, even though I acted as if I thought it was disgusting. I needed that dream to be fulfilled almost as much as I wished you could just come back.
If you could just come back...
That would be more to me than being a Wonderbolt thousands of times over. But I just don't feel as if I've done anything to deserve that, though.
Have I really made my father proud by yelling and screaming at him to an extent that I told him that I hated him?
No.
I'm really sorry, Dad.
I regret everything I've ever said to you, and every dumb fight I've started with you. It's a miracle that you didn't kick me out of the house.
But it's an even bigger miracle that you still loved me.
...You just weren't proud of me.
I needed you to be proud of me.
I just didn't know how...
To tell you the truth, it feels really nice to vent all these emotions out. They've been trapped inside the deepest closets of my heart, and locked with double enforcement. But now, it's just nice to tell you how much I regret, how much I love, how much I appreciate you.
I just wish I could feel the same about myself.
I'm not good with words. I'm not good at making myself sound like a sappy old poet.
But I do know how to say thank you. I know how to say sorry. I know how to say that I love you. And these are all things that you've taught me, but more importantly, these are all things that I need to say to you.
I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry for not saving you. I'm sorry for giving you a hard time. I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm sorry for running away. I'm sorry for slapping you, and hurting you, and hating you. I'm sorry for not realizing that you loved me. I'm sorry for just being a great big jerk ass...
Sorry.
I'd also like to thank you. Thank you for being so level headed, and for believing in me, and for not fighting back when I hit you, and for not yelling at me, and for always being at my side when I needed help, and for loving me.
How can I repay someone who loved me? By not being able to save them from their untimely death?
If only I was faster, then I could have saved the one pony who loved me.
And... Well, I love you, too.
I still do, after all these years.
And that's why I'm writing this, I guess.
If you love someone, you gotta make them proud of you.
I figured, following in the footsteps of my father was a good way to make him proud of you...
If he were alive.
Being dead just doesn't really work out well, does it?
Sure, you're dead, you won't ever come back to life, and you'll give everyone a lot of heart break...
But...
Dad.
You never truly died. You're still there in my heart, after all this time, and I think it's time to unlock those closet doors and tell you this directly.
I love you.
I love you so much, Dad.
And I regret every single speck of relationship we've had before you left us. Because that was the only time I ever had with you, and I blew it. I was a jerk. I was an ass. I didn't love you like you loved me. And now that you're gone, I've finally found out that I really do love you, but it's too late.
I regret it all, Dad.
I just hope you can forgive me...
-Rainbow Dash
Author's Note
Written via sleep deprivation.
This has some personal value to myself, but to a limited extent.
If you loved, liked, or disliked this, please explain why in the comments, so I can improve my writing.
Inspired by the poem "Those Winter Sundays" by Robert Hayden and the song 'Who I Am Hates Who I've Been" by Relient K.
