When the Bough Breaks

I never saw it coming. Applejack was always so healthy. Bucking trees with me all hours of the day, helping protect Equestria multiple times, spending time with Apple Bloom, and helping Granny Smith... I suppose the lack of sleep got to her and when she got sick... she just couldn’t fight it. Still a shock though. Mighty big shock.

Princess Celestia donated a fine headstone for her, though. I was worried it would be too fancy for her... something she’d feel embarrassed about. Thankfully the stone was simple. Nice marble; so it’d be sturdy. It was tan... kinda like her hair. It suited her well. She would have liked it.

A nudge on my shoulder turns me back towards the rest of the funeral party. Granny Smith gives me a wrinkled smile. Probably trying to reassure me. I force a small smile onto my muzzle and turn back towards Applejack's friends, standing on the other side of the open casket. I can’t stand to look at them so I look at her instead.

She’s laid out on her back. She might as well be sleeping but she has no smile on her face. Whenever she would take a quick nap in the orchard she would have a small smile on her muzzle. She always slept that way... not like this. Her stetson had been placed beneath her crossed hooves, like she was hugging it to her chest.

A blue aura appears around the hat and slowly pulls it up to cover most of her face. She slept like that sometimes. I looked at Rarity. Her eyes quickly glance at me. I give her an appreciative smile before she looks away again.

The worst part of this whole business is Pinkie Pie. I keep wishing she would make a noise of some kind. Or at least had not straightened her hair. Just don’t look right to me. I looked at her only once before looking away during the beginning of the funeral.

What bothers me most was I have the worst time trying to cry. Maybe I was still in shock but I just can’t seem to cry. She probably wouldn’t have liked it anyhow.

The reverend cleared his throat.

“Now, let us all say our goodbyes to Applejack and hope, by Celestia, to see her again someday.” Everyone nods in unison. I throw a glance to the whole crowd of Ponyville ready to say good-bye. I would have to see each of them and nod when they said “my condolences” or “I’m so sorry” or “If you need anything...” Everypony acts so sad at a funerals and so much in love with the dead. But how much of it is real?

Her friends glance up at us and then walk to stand with us. We don’t say anything but nothing needs to be said. They’re just about family themselves so they might as well join us. Though honestly I’m not that sure that they make much of a difference to more than Apple Bloom. I don’t know any of them well enough to receive any comfort and I can tell Granny Smith is offended to have them stand with “the family”.

Granny Smith is always polite to outsiders...as long as they remained outside. A strong apple tree only needs itself for support she says. Of course I know that’s a load of wallop. A strong apple tree comes after grafting it with a stronger root system and even then a big storm can cause a heap of damage.

The town lines up and passes by, bidding farewell to a pony they had heard of a lot but never helped much. I only recognize a few faces but I don’t know their names. Some of our out-of-town relatives are there too, able to take time from their own farms to say good-bye and act like family. What’s made me so cynical so sudden? Just plain old grief I guess. When I hear Apple Bloom crying it’s hard not to want to blame somepony. I guess I’m her only sibling now.

After an hour or so the ponies are gone. Caramel, Braeburn, and Cortland stay with me while the rest of the relatives file inside the barn to prepare dinner. Time to put Applejack into the ground. Granny Smith makes sure Apple Bloom goes in so she doesn’t have to see it. I could have asked another cousin to help me bury her...but it just doesn’t feel right to not do it myself. Cortland tried to move her hat down to her hooves again.

“Leave it.” I tell him. He leaves it. Caramel and I flip the lid of the coffin to cover her. Then we lay Applejack to rest. I don’t dwell on it, I just do it. Do it and go inside to wash off before dinner.

Inside the barn a reunion is underway. Cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, great aunts and uncles, second, third cousins... everypony from the Apple family who could make it is here catching up. I’ve never been one for socializing so I just stand in the corner and try to eat something. Not really hungry though.

I just don’t want to be stuck thinking about it. I went into the field the day she died knowing what I might find. I was almost happy to find her that way. Under her napping tree, hat covering her face...she wanted to go that way. That’s why I had brought her out there to the orchard in the first place. I knew she was going. No matter how many apples she ate and how much medication she took...she just kept getting thinner and thinner and her color was more off.

I can’t keep thinking about her. She went out the way she wanted to. No regrets. Just being out in the sun with the smell of trees was enough to help her a little. I don’t care what nopony says to me; she died happy.

“Remember when she was born? How we were all so scared she wasn’t going to make it?” one of my aunts remarks within earshot to another teary-eyed aunt or cousin.

“Yes, Big McIntosh was always there though to watch her. He was so excited and proud of his sister...”

“Oh, I remember! I guess he and Apple Bloom have to carry on the line, now.”

“Yeah. I think they can do it. He just needs to be more friendly with other ponies. As for Apple Bloom...well, you just know she’s going to be pretty so no trouble there...”

“It’s just...odd though, isn’t it? I mean...Grandpa Crisp died, then Granny Smith got skipped. Then it was her father, then her mother a few months after...and now her?”

“What are you saying?”

"Maybe it comes in cycles. I don't know but you can't deny the facts and what everypony else is saying."

"What do they say? What facts?" my aunt or cousin asks eagerly.

My aunt never says. She catches me watching them and politely nods before steering the aunt or cousin away. I grind my teeth. Of all places to speculate... The aunt doesn’t need to explain it to me. I’m only too familiar with the rumor. It’s whispered between relatives out of earshot of my immediate family.

The rumor is often told that Sweet Apple Acres, and this branch of the Apple family tree, is cursed.