Dear Pinkamena Diane Pie,
How is my little filly doing? May I call you that? You're all grown up now, after all.
You've grown into a wonderful mare. I am so proud to be able to call you my daughter. I don't deserve the right to. Any stallion on this great place we call Equestria would have undeniably great reason to say that he is the luckiest colt alive if he were to have the privilege call you his, and his alone.
However you feel about the title, it fits. You are, and always will remain, my little filly. I just hope you know that.
You do, right? You're very smart, always have been. I remember the conversations we used to share. Your questions were always so deep. Random, but deep. They really did make me think. I only wish I knew the answers. I'm thankful that you convinced me to rid our household of that "no talking" rule. My life really brightened after that. And it was all thanks to you.
You always knew just what to say. It's almost as if it was some type of powerful unicorn magic. As if your brain just latched onto the sadness of others and generated exactly what would cheer them up. Perhaps your horn is invisible. There really is just no other way to explain how adept you are at turning frowns upside-down. It has to be some type of magic.
I remember our classes. You really loved to teach me, help me out. Your old man surely needed it. I was stuck in my ways like they were some type of quicksand. I'm so grateful that you came along and dragged me out. You taught me everything you knew. Of course, first, you had to start with lightening me up. I felt so loose after all of that. It was such a foreign feeling. A great one, though. Me and the wife went out and had a grand-old time directly afterward. It was the most fun I'd had in years. Decades, even. It felt like I was young again. Or rather, what I had always imagined it would feel like to be young. You know how my family was.
Then you taught me all about how to throw parties. I'm still not very well-versed at the concept. I've thrown a few practice ones here and there, but none of them are ever as lively as yours. Nor do they ever bring as many smiles as yours. Mostly because I don't exactly have a hefty supply of colorful decorations or a supply of good music, but I guess that's why throwing parties and bringing happiness to ponies is your special talent, and not mine.
And then there were the classes on making ponies smile, singing and writing silly songs, making silly faces, all sorts of things. I adored each and every second of all of it. I only wish I could have supplied as much useful information for you.
I'm sorry I couldn't be a better father. You deserve the best.
Sorry for the random fit of reminiscing, I guess that's just what happens when you get old. You try to fill the void
As for me, I'm doing well. Life has been trudging along as always. Days turn into weeks, which turn into months and so on. It's a bit monotonous, the days just blur together, feeling like one long string of time. I guess that's just the atmosphere of a rock farm. But you've got to do what you've got to do, work to live and all of that. But I smile on, forever and always. Just for you. I know it's what you want.
But I
It's been so long since I've last heard from you, I was starting to feel out of touch. I can't place a date or even an estimate, but it's felt like forever. I want you to know that when I go a month, or months, without hearing from you, my life feels empty. Your letters always bring the widest of smiles to my face. The only happiness that surpasses is when you come to visit. I apologize profusely for the infrequency of my letters, being that it's been quite some time since my last one, but I find it difficult to write to you.
Why haven't you written to me? Do you
I miss
Come back
I envy you. You know that? You're always so cheerful. It's contagious, almost. Simply being in your presence just fills ponies will all sorts of joy. It's almost as if you exude some type of aura that causes such a thing. I only wish I could enjoy the benefits of being in your wake.
And here's where it all comes out. I owe you the truth.
I suggest if you wish to continue living life in the naively ever-happy, bubbly way that you do, that you drop the letter now and move on.
If you're still reading, here it goes:
Your mother is gone dead. She had an illness, some type of disease that I've never heard of. I believe it started with a C. The doctors said there was no cure. They took her away from me. I can't stop seeing her face. All of the beauty was washed away, replaced by a distorted pained expression. Her eyes no longer glowed the bright blue they always had. My Susan was stolen from me physically, mentally, and spiritually.
No matter, she's passed away. Had been for quite awhile. I was hiding the truth from you, because you always told me to smile. Find the joy in everything. Keep your chin up. All of those uplifting little comments that you loved to use so much-- I couldn't apply here, no matter how hard I tried.
I didn't want to disappoint you.
I didn't want to shatter the facade the way you live.
I didn't want the brightness of your smile to dim, even the tiniest of bits.
But there's more:
Your sisters, they're gone dead as well.
I don't want to go into detail, please forgive me, simply writing the previous statement was difficult enough. Blinkamena Jessica contracted the disease and Inkamena Abigail decided to end it herself. They took Blinkie from me too, and I had to personally stumble on Inkie, which was more shock and horror than I was able to handle at the time.
I envy Inkie's courage
I can't bear to walk around this old and empty house anymore. Day after day, I think of ending it all I lay awake, trying to scrape by on the memories of the past. All of the happiness had been flushed away when the family fell apart. They were really all I lived for, all I've ever lived for. The only joy I found in my life came from all of them.
But you're still here. You are that one beacon of hope in the endless cycle of despair my life has become. To be honest, you always were. Only now is it so readily evident.
I miss you. So very much. No words in my vocabulary, long or short, mono or multisyllabic, alone or in thralls, could express just how true that statement is and has been and shall remain. I only have the memories of you to go back on to fuel my smiles. They've become impossible to force. Please, write back so I don't have to continue prying them from nothing, even if just for a short while.
Better yet, come back. I wish to catch your contagious happiness.
You truly were the best thing that ever happened to me. Without you, my life would have always been an endless amount of gray and darkness. For all that you've done, I am eternally grateful. Please remember that.
I miss you.
I love you.
Love,
Your old man.
P.S. Enclosed is a picture of your last visit. I beg that this be foremost in your memory, not what you have learned today.
