To begin with, the story I’m telling isn’t mine.
This is a memoir, just a tiny piece of the life of one of the greatest friends I could ever have, one of my biggest forms of support and structure.
I realize that I can’t accurately capture just how special this pony is, not just to me, but to everypony around her. But, I believe that is for the best. She’s always loved making memories to keep and share, but one of the things she has always said was to never turn the enjoyment of those memories into sadness. Personally, I don’t want to say everything, because I know what happens when I talk too much about her.
I want to tell you about her to keep her memory strong, to keep her alive in our hearts so that we don’t forget one of the paragons of how one should look at life. Of course, she had her rough spots and bad moments, but that’s just a few stains on a beautiful mosaic of memories.
I’d been trotting down a dirty forest road, lost beyond all belief and struggling with food supplies and exhaustion when we first met. A simple ‘Heya!’ and there she was, a pegasus with an arctic blue coat and shimmering yellow bangs. She just popped up out of nowhere and began to help me. Directions, food, water; she never had to offer any of it, but she did, all the while neglecting to give her own introduction any thought.
When I’d asked her who she was, she playfully shrugged me off and said ‘I’m just a friend,’ with the biggest welcoming grin on her face. A grin that I would soon find infectious, as the sorrowful look on my face from my long journey up to then slowly changed to hope, and then into a bright smile of my own.
I think some ponies don’t realize how much power the simplest of things can hold. Within five minutes, this random pony had managed to make me feel happier than I had felt in years with a smile and a little support.
She led me back to a village–presumably hers as she wouldn’t give me any information about herself. By now, she had taken a few of my saddlebags to carry. She looked like she was straining to carry them, but was pushing through alongside me like a stubborn mule.
I followed her as she waved to plenty of ponies roaming around the dirt roads. In comparison to the forest trail I had been walking on for hours, this one felt nice and polished, almost as if it wasn’t dirt. Glancing around, a large statue of a pegasus stallion caught my attention.
It stood proud, yet imperfect in the center of the village–cracks cascading through its spread-out wings and sturdy legs. Not even it’s flowing, rocky mane was proving safe from the trot of time. There was an engraving at the bottom that I couldn’t read from the distance we cantered at, but I’d bet it was the name of some hero of the village, or even of Equestria.
Following close behind my new friend, her wandering eventually ended up in front of an egg white house with a multitude of windows near the outskirts of town. She set down my saddlebags onto the porch, having me do the same with the rest; but then motioned for me to follow her into the hinterland beyond the house. You have to understand, I’m not exactly a very trusting pony, so for somepony to gain that trust so fast is impressive.
As we walked I attempted to chat a few more times (I may have been trying to dispel some nerves as much as get to know her), but she just shushed gently and told me to keep following. Brushing some fallen leaves and low branches out of her way, it became clear what she wanted to share with me.
A small alcove on a lonely beach greeted us, compounded by large stone archways holding up an incomplete dome that partially covered the sky from view, a few rays of light shining in from the holes at the top. But that wasn’t what took my attention. Instead, I focused on the beautiful view of the orange horizon, a sunset clearly in progress. The light of the sun reflected down upon the water, coloring it in similar vermilion hues as the sky. I had stopped walking at some point, but I hadn’t even noticed, transfixed by the wonderful sight.
I looked to my left, noticing my companion sitting quietly in the sand, staring out at the serene waters below Celestia’s Sun. Her wings were lightly spread in a fashion that reminded me of the statue back in town. She still didn’t say a word to me, she just turned with a weary look on her upturned lips.
I don’t know what she was trying to show me to this day, but I think not even she ever really knew. To me, it felt like sharing an experience with somepony she thought needed it. That special moment at the beach was a vision of the natural beauty of the world that exists around us all. The hard trek I had been making before, lost and worrying whether I would even have enough to eat, made me forget that. Though we might all forget it at times, the calm moments where we just appreciate the little things are some of the happiest memories we can have, either alone, or shared with friends and family.
She never told me her intentions with that evening at the beach–like I said, I don’t think she knew herself–but I think that was the point. She just wrapped a wing around me, pulled me close and warm, and we watched the sun subside into the golds and reds of the reflecting waters together, the warm horizon slowly melting into dusky purples and blues and sprinkled with diamond lights. She was one of those ponies that could see the subtle details, something I was glad for, and still am to this day.
It’d been years since we first met, and over time she told me more about herself, little stories of moments she wanted to share. As it turned out, not many ponies in the village really knew much about her, not even her name. Despite her dislike for talk, she had provided many sad faces with new outlooks on life with nary a word: just with a moment, at any one of the wondrous, beautiful places she knew. Name known or not, she had cemented herself as part of the community in everyponies’ hearts.
We’d grown very close, and she told me personal things she’d never told anypony else. It felt so nice to finally hear her open up for once. I never got her to admit it, but she had a beautiful voice; calm as the washing of the waves, yet as strong as the crags of a mountain.
Once, I was concerned since I hadn’t seen her all day. It was something that worried me due to how uncommon it was for her to separate from me for such a long period of time. Really it’d only been a few hours, but I missed the feel of her tail intertwined with mine, and the listening ear she always had. It took me a while, but my memories led me back to where we shared our first real moment; the alcove.
Sure enough, there she was sitting at the beach gazing out at the sunset, just like the first time we met. Instead of spread wings, she was propped up against a smooth rock, laying with little motion.
I had a silly little smile as I walked up beside her and put a hoof around her shoulder, happy to see she was safe; you’d be surprised how dangerous this place can be for how relaxed it usually is. She slowly turned her head to me, a look in her deep blue eyes and a change in her poise which I couldn’t put my hoof on. Unlike the last time we were here, there was a sunflower tucked behind her right ear, something from her garden that I gave to her as a little gift when she was feeling low once.
I gave her a soft nuzzle on the cheek, not speaking a word, just how she liked it. She was never one for discourse, and the years we’d spent together had made me much more partial to silence than I could’ve expected when I was younger.
Then she did something I wasn’t expecting.
Carefully, almost tenderly, she plucked the sunflower out from behind her ear, and tucked it behind mine, ignoring the heartsick shock present on my muzzle. I stared at her; a silent question on my face that she could only nod to. Realizing what was happening, I held her tight, not wanting to let go for all that I was worth.
As the warmth of the sun faded from the sky and was replaced by the chill of the moon, her eyes closed, and a serene smile, as serene as the sunset we viewed then or any number of sights or moments we had experienced together before, crossed her face. The hours passed, and as stars dotted the sky as if begging to be connected, her own set of stars replaced her warm skies.
The funeral was a sad affair for all involved. Everyone treasured her presence and the joy that it brought, and to see such a cheerful face pass so soon was painful to live with. She was buried close to our house, on a hilltop that was covered in sunflowers; courtesy of her will that she had written without me knowing.
I miss her more than you can imagine, but the happy memories stay with me, her positive attitude inspiring me to remember the good times we had, rather than the sorrow her passing caused.
Now, when a new face like you visits our little village, I like to tell them her story, and how she managed to change my life with just her signature grin. Around here, she’s never forgotten. Instead she’s held close to our hearts, a hero to us all. And whenever a traveler pops into town, a statue of a pegasus mare near the center, next to other bygone heroes of the village, always captures their attention, welcoming them to read its engraving.
Helia
A hero, a friend, a loving wife, and most of all, a kind soul looking to spread warmth and brightness to all she meets.
