Dear Diary,
How can I ever put my thoughts into writing? How could anyone ever imprint a sheet of paper with the depth of pain that I feel right now?
Ah, look at me. I can't even write without smudging the ink with my tears. I've just - I've never had to do this before, y'know?
I can't believe she's gone. She's gone. She's finished, that's it. I'll never laugh with her, make jam with her, dance with her ever, ever again. And I didn't even get chance to say goodbye.
It was so sudden. And now she's lying there in the hospital, waiting. Waiting for the ghouls of - of - of death to wrap her up, put her in a box, close the lid. . .
But d'you wanna know the worst part?
Winona.
How can I explain to her what's happened? How's she ever supposed to understand? She don't speak Ponish! When I came back from the hospital she met me at the door, all happy, jumping up at me. I fussed her but she knew, she just knew something wasn't right.
She went out looking for her there and then. I didn't have the heart to stop her. We'd all walked back together but Big Mac went off to do some chores. So he said, but we all know he's gone to cry. Granny Smith just sat in her chair and started rocking. And I came up to my room.
It's funny, y'know? How at first, I didn't really feel nothing. Just empty, and cold. Like I was staring at a page of really hard sums, trying to get 'em to sink in. But I couldn't think. So I lay down on my bed and fell asleep.
When I woke up she was there. Not - not AJ. Winona, I mean. She was just sat by the bed with her chin resting on her paws. I looked at her, and she looked right back into my eyes. And I knew she had realised something was up. She's always been good at judging ponies' moods. I sat down on the floor next to her, buried my head into her fur, and wept.
I cried so hard and so long I made Winona's flank all wet. But she never moved. Not till I was done. When I sat back up again, all my tears gone, she cocked her head at me, and I think she was trying to say 'It's alright, Applebloom. I don't know what's wrong, but I'm here'.
It's tomorrow now. The first day in my life that Applejack's not been there. She's always been there. . . She's been a sister, a friend and a ma to me, all rolled into one. But I'm the mare of the house now.
When I looked at the clock and realised it was past midnight, I wished I'd started writing sooner. Then I'd have a record from that day. But I don't. All I've got from the day she - the day she died is my memories.
I've never had a good visual memory, y'know? Like, I find it hard to picture ponies' faces sometimes. I wonder if I'll forget her face? Celestia, I hope not.
As I'm sitting here writing, Winona is lying over my hindlegs, looking up at me. She's watching everything I do. Every so often she gets up and walks along the corridor to AJ's room, and when she comes back and lies down again, she looks that little bit more uncertain.
I'm having a hard time realising what's happened - but how will Winona ever understand? She's always going to be wondering, always waiting. Waiting for her to come back. Just like I will.
It's me and her now. She was always AJ's dog really. But I'll look after her, and she'll look after me. And we'll be there for Big Mac and Granny Smith.
I never met my parents. My Pa died before I was born, and Ma died in childbirth. I've always felt guilty for that. Like it was my fault. But whenever I was feeling down, AJ would scoop me up, and tell me the love that had been in Ma's eyes whenever she talked about her little unborn filly. We were going to be a big, happy family; Ma and Pa, Big Mac, Applejack, Granny Smith, and me.
But things didn't turn out that way. And now AJ's gone too.
Oh dear - I'm smudging the page again.
The other Cutiemark Crusaders don't know yet. Well, I haven't told them. But Rainbow Dash and Rarity have probably passed on the news. I'm hoping they don't come round just yet. I want to be alone for now, to write.
Part of me thinks that if I keep writing long enough, it'll all go back to how it was. That if I think hard enough about AJ, she'll be back here with me. With me and Winona. She's gone to the window now, looking out at the sun. It's a beautiful day - the sort Applejack liked best. Warm but not too hot, with a fresh breeze and the smell of hay and ripe apples.
Oh Winona, Winona! What are we going to do? What are we going to do. . .
How will I manage? I've never been on my own before. And I know I'm not alone, but Big Mac has never been one for talking, and Granny Smith's looking frailer than ever. I don't know how long before -
There I go again. Crying won't help none. But the more I cry, the more I write, the more I feel for Winona. Applejack's most faithful companion. We used to have so much fun, the three of us, especially before I met Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.
I wish - I wish I'd spent more time with AJ. It's just little things I wish I'd done, like going for a walk, or spending the evening playing cards. But I spent so much time with my friends, and she with hers, that now it feels like - like I wasted the opportunity to be with her while I could.
Winona was always with her, whenever she was allowed. And she'll be with me now. My Winona. My sister's gone, but her dog won't be alone. It'll be alright, little doggy.
We'll help each other.
Author's Note
Something a bit different from my usual writing.
I lost my sister when we were seventeen. She'd had epilepsy ever since we were little, but always managed to keep it under control through therapy and medication. Then one day I was at school, and the headmaster came in. He asked to speak to me, alone. And in that moment, everything changed.
Over the next few weeks everyone thought of everything except what to do with Bessie, my sister's King Charles. So she became mine, and we helped each other through the darkest days of our lives.
That was ten years ago.
Bessie died in her sleep earlier this week. 
