The Passing of Carrot Top
Author's Note
In the past two weeks two of my close relatives have died. I wanted to write something to work through those emotions, so I wrote this very short story. A loss may mean very little to the world, but that does not make the loss any easier - or any less significant. It is worth taking a moment to notice the "background ponies" of life, for they matter more than the world knows.
The Passing of Carrot Top
There is a sort of unstated myth that all funerals take place during the rain. If you have ever seen a funeral in a movie then you know exactly what I mean. The sky is always overcast and gray, the ponies are uniformly clad in black (with matching black umbrellas), and a dreary rain pours down from the sky. It’s as if the world itself has burst into tears over the passing of our hero.
The truth is that life isn’t often like that. Yes, there are times when funerals do occur in the rain. Yet there are other ponies who are buried on bright, sunny days. Sometimes there’s snow on the ground and sometimes the ground is covered in the fresh grass of spring. Sometimes the world doesn’t seem to notice that one of its residents has passed. Life has simply gone on, even though a soul has departed.
In the land of Equestria there are millions of ponies. Some are young and some are old. On any given day there are many ponies who reach the end of their life. When this happens their names are recorded in the local papers, which dutifully fills out their Obituaries section each week (as if calling it “Obituaries” instead of “Deaths” somehow makes it sound more appealing). The city of Ponyville was no exception. Every week ponies grew old and died – or, in some cases, died without having grown old first.
This particular funeral was the latter instead of the former. Death came very suddenly. The doctors said that it was heart failure – yes, heart failure, even though she had lived a healthy and active life. It was simply one of those things. The pony had been feeling just fine the day before, and no one saw it coming. Yet when Roseluck came to check on her the next day she was laying lifeless on her living room floor. There was nothing anyone could do about it.
To the papers it was simply another obituary – charged to her estate, of course. Her name was Carrot Top. She was an energetic yellow pony with a bright orange mane, a passion for growing things, and carrots for a cutie mark. She died young – so young that she didn’t have a husband or children. She thought that her whole life was ahead of her; she never expected to reach its end so soon.
Her friends Roseluck and Lyra made the arrangements for her funeral. Her parents were the official executors of her estate but they lived on the other side of Equestria, far north of Canterlot. Carrot Top had meant to change it but she just never got around to it. They promised to come for the funeral but it was a long trip and they were old. It was not easy for them to get around.
The news of her death spread rapidly to the few ponies who had known her, but it had little impact beyond that. Carrot Top was a gardener, after all. She was a simple soul who spent most of her time doing what she did best – raising carrots and other vegetables. It had been a quiet and happy life. She was always cheerful, or so it seemed to the few ponies who had the privilege of knowing her.
While her friends arranged for her burial, life in Ponyville went on. Her death had no noticeable impact on Equestria. After all, she was just a farmer. There were plenty of other farmers in the world; who would notice the absence of just one? Carrot Top wasn’t wealthy or powerful. She was not one of the Elements of Harmony, nor was she a princess. She was just an ordinary pony.
Now, if one of the Elements had died, all of Equestria would have heard of it. The passing of Fluttershy or Rarity would have been an event of historical importance. Celestia herself would have come to town for the funeral – or, more likely, held it in Canterlot. There would have been a national day of mourning. Schools would have been closed, flags would have been lowered, and countless ponies would have come to pay their respects. Of course, most of those ponies would have never even met the deceased pony before, much less knew her personally. They would have come because of her reputation. After all, her heroics and role in saving Equestria time and time again could not be denied.
But Carrot Top was not important. She had never saved Equestria, or even graced the cover of a magazine. Her closest brush with fame was the fact that she had been in the area when Ponyville was hit by disasters, which was a distinction a great many ponies could claim. But the truth was Carrot Top didn’t really care about fame or notoriety. She had just lived her life quietly as a good citizen of Equestria. She had a few friends that she had loved dearly, and they loved her in return. She was there for them and they were there for her. And then one day she wasn’t there any more at all.
* * * * *
On the day of her funeral there were less than twenty ponies present. Celestia did not attend; after all, she never knew the lowly gardener. There were no Elements of Harmony present, no foreign dignitaries, and no ponies of great renown.
But her friends were there, and that’s what mattered. The ponies who knew her best and who truly cared about her came to pay their last respects. Roseluck was probably her closest friend. She had met her right after Carrot Top moved to Ponyville. They ran into each other one bright spring morning while buying seeds for their gardens, and quickly discovered they both had a love for the soil and delighted in growing things. The two ponies would often meet at the end of the day to discuss the things that mattered to them.
In the papers there was talk of monsters and invasions and rivalries between nations, but Carrot Top and Roseluck took little interest in such things. Those situations would be handled by the Princesses; that was what they were for, after all. Of far greater importance to gardeners was the health of their plants and the prevalence of undesirable insects. No one wanted a repeat of the parasprite invasion.
Minuette had traveled all the way from Canterlot to attend. She had met Carrot Top when they were just young fillies. They had met one summer at the beach and became fast friends. Minuette never farmed a day in her life, but she had the same eclectic taste in art and music that Carrot Top had and that was all it took. The two ponies rarely saw each other, but they got together as often as they could and exchanged infrequent letters. They thought they had all the time in the world.
No griffons attended the funeral, and no yaks were present (to the great relief of all). Her parents arrived just before the funeral started. The trip had been a difficult one for them but they were unwilling to miss the funeral of their only child. Her mother and father had met late in life, and one child was all they were able to have. They loved her dearly and she had loved them back.
The funeral service was not a long one. Above them Celestia’s sun shone brightly in a deep blue sky. The world seemed to take no notice that a life had been lost; she was just another name. But her friends were there, to say goodbye to her one last time. Carrot Top had made an impression on them that they would not forget. She might be absent but she was not forgotten.
When the casket was closed a shroud was placed over it – bright orange, of course. It reflected the joy and vibrancy that Carrot Top had displayed in life. Equestria might not have recognized it but it suffered a significant loss that day. A nation is not made up of heroes and princesses; it is composed of its citizens – the little ponies who go about their days and bring life to the land. Without them the streets would be empty, the homes barren, and the fields bereft and tattered.
It is an easy thing to be a hero – to be rich and powerful and beloved by all. It’s quite another thing to be content with your lot and live out a humble life with joy. Carrot Top lived her life well – and that was more than many ponies could say.
