A Light Went Out that Day

I always knew this would happen one day. That what I feared most would one day come to pass. The knowledge that one whom I loved would pass on, and that I would not have the power to halt Nature's path.

As a filly I never thought about it. I had a happy, contented life in my village just outside Canterlot, with my caring parents, the elder brother I could always look up to and rely on, and a stable, peaceful community. It never occurred to me that that could be taken away from me.

Until one day. One fateful, horrible day. It pains me to think of it even now, twenty years later. It happened shortly after I got my cutie mark, and enrolled at my new school. Mother was expecting another foal, and had only the day before told me and my brother. We were so excited; to have another foal to play with and look after, someone else to call a sister, or a brother. We spent the day thinking up possible names for our new sibling, and spent the night talking about her, or him, until our father came in to quieten us.

The next day dawned bright and sunny. It seemed to be speaking to me, telling me that I need never have a care in the world. My wonderful family was about to get even better, and I could not have been happier. But as the day wore on, the sky darkened. Ominous clouds, blown in from the Everfree forest, gathered over Canterlot and the surrounding area before the pegasi could disperse them. We were in for a storm.

I didn't mind that. My brother had long since shown me that there was no need to be frightened of thunder, and lightning was too beautiful to be scary. We begged our parents to let us watch the storm from outside, but they bade us to remain indoors.

As the afternoon rolled on by and evening came, the storm worsened. We were told by the mayor to stay inside at all costs, as the weather ponies would be unable to halt the ensuing onslaught. I thought that this all sounded rather fun, at first. As night arrived, however, I came to realise just how dangerous the power of Nature could truly be.

Mother was tucking us into bed, and father was just trotting downstairs after reading us a bedtime story. I can still remember the words I whispered to mother, and her soft words of understanding. Is father worried about the storm? She smiled at me, and my brother, and shook her head. No, she reassured us. He knows that we're safe inside. The storm will all be gone by tomorrow. I smiled back, looking into her soft, warm eyes. She looked back into mine... and they became the last thing she would ever see.

A sharp CRACK rang out over the noise of the rain, a shining white light filling the room. The intensity of the explosion on my ears and eyes rendered me temporarily senseless, and I blacked out.

* * *

A soft, regular beeping brought me round. A calm, careworm face was peering down into my own, and my first thought was of my mother. I cried out for her, wondering where I was.

I soon realised. The blank surroundings, the highly sanitised smell, the curtains around the stiff, starched sheets of my bed – I could only be in a hospital. But where was the hospital, and why was I there, where were my family, and what had happened to mother? All these questions came to my mind instantaneously, and I endeavoured to sit up.

The wizened muzzle hovering above me in my field of vision murmured a word of restraint. I lay back, knowing that to struggle would only worsen things. I was here for a reason, and that reason would not go away, regardless of whatever pressing issues may be worrying me. Such was my practical side, even back then!

The doctor sat down beside the bed, and I turned my head to look at him. He spoke, but not to me; his words were to a nurse who had been standing, unnoticed by me, in the corner of the white room. She went outside, coming back a moment later with my father and brother.

They rushed over to my bed and both began hugging me at the same time. The doctor quickly intervened, saying that I needed to be moved as little as possible. They complied, giving me some room. The white-coated medic suggested something quietly to father, and he nodded. Both hospital staff then left the room. It was then that I noticed the tears running down my brother's muzzle, and the shocked look in my father's eye.

Before either of them could speak I found my voice. Where is mother? Father held my gaze and swallowed, but my brother closed his eyes and bowed his head. Then father spoke. He asked me, brokenly, if I remembered the storm of last week. I was surprised, it felt like mere minutes ago; knowing I would learn more about the amount of time which had passed later on however, I merely nodded.

Slowly, and with some hesitation, he told me all. The explosion I had heard had been a lightning bolt directly hitting the roof of our house. Mine and my brother's bedroom had been totally destroyed, with much of the rest of the upper floor also being fire- and smoke-damaged. That was not the worst, however. My mother had felt the full force from the blast, and though she had shielded my brother from harm, she, herself, had...

I couldn't take it in. I wouldn't take it in. I refused to, telling my father he must be mistaken. Something was wrong, he had misunderstood the circumstances, he was pretending, he was misleading me, he was lying! This could not be, true, it just couldn't! I shouted at him, at them both, hating them for bringing me such bad news. My brother opened his eyes at my outburst, and gently began stroking my brow. The tears which had been waiting to fall could hold on no longer, and I crumpled into wracking sobs.

We stayed there alone, the three of us, for over an hour. Eventually the exhaustion of loss overwhelmed me, and I was overtaken by blessèd, dreamless sleep.

* * *

The following days and weeks passed by in a blur. I don't remember much. The house was too damaged to be easily repaired, and we moved to Canterlot shortly thereafter. I hadn't only lost my mother that day, I had lost a sibling, also, a sibling I had never known but nonetheless had felt a great fondness for. Father encouraged us both to remain lively despite our loss, aware that the best way to cope with grief is not to deny it or ignore it, but to let it flow, whilst remaining busy and mentally active.

His words of wisdom helped a lot at that difficult time. My brother was recruited into the Royal Guard about a year after the incident, and this gave us all something to root for. We began to move on with our lives, to learn how to live again. My success at the Academy did not go unnoticed by my family, either, and both they and I felt I had found my true calling.

I met many ponies, living in Canterlot. I met many new acquaintances and some new friends, but I was always careful to never become too close to them. I was aware that, one day, I would have to lose them, and I did not think I could take any more heartache than I had to.

That was until one, bright summer's morning roughly fourteen years after my mother's death. Over a decade of intense study had taught me many things, one of which was that the return of a powerful foe was iminent. I travelled to a nearby village with the idea of being able to halt this occurrence, and with strict instructions from my mentor to make some friends. This was not what I wanted to do; my ever-practical mind was concerned only with getting the job done quickly and with the least possible number of distractions.

Whilst I was there, however, I found myself drawn to five ponies in particular. They went out of their way to make me feel comfortable around them, and to make me feel a part of their group, and I felt this in a way I had neither appreciated nor desired since the death of my mother. I was in the village for several days and, when the time came to leave, I found myself wishing I had more time to spend with my new-found friends.

This wish came true, as I was given a posting in the village itself. I became a respected and valued member of the community, and made many more close friendships. I have seen ponies come and ponies go, and many has been the visitor to my abode. Some came to visit me personally, and some came to take advantage of the services the building itself offered but, regardless of their intent, I would learn from these ponies. I learnt their happinesses and their woes, I knew of their pasts, presents and hoped-for futures. They gave me light when I could find none, and somepony to talk to when all hope seemed lost. I helped them and they helped me. And I have been made a far better pony than I could have been had I stayed in Canterlot.

Four years passed since my arrival in the village. Four years, along with more troubles and joys than could have been imagined. Numerous times Equestria itself almost came to ruin but, every time, something would happen at the last minute to save the day. There was always something to turn the shade into glow, the dark into light. Almost always.

Twenty years went on by from the time of the storm, Time marching ever onwards. Hard as things were at times, there were nevertheless far more joyous occasions than sad. The marriage of my brother, the birth of twins to two good neighbours, the saving of an Empire, my village's success at the Equestria Games... things which, on their own, could be taken as unrelated happenings, but which all formed part of the happy and full life I now led. I never took them for granted, I never ignored the simple things in life. And I never forgot the pain I had felt, two decades ago.

I say I never forgot and, whilst that is true, it would perhaps be more accurate to say that I remembered. As the years had gone by I had learnt to think of my mother and never-born sibling with fondness and joy, rather than sorrow and regret. I remembered the pain, but it no longer bothered me. I knew I could take the loss again if I had to and, whilst this would undoubtably be difficult, I knew I was up to it.

For as long, that is, as I didn't have to.

* * *

I had poured years of my life into learning and studying as much magic as I could. Before I arrived at my present home, personal, quiet study had been my most constant interest. And although I learnt what I could about all areas of magic, the parts surrounding the lengthening of life and the delaying of death captivated most of my interest. I vowed to never again lose somepony so dear to me in so savage a manner. If there was anything I could do to stave off the coming loss, I promised myself I would do it.

But when the time came, I found myself unable to. Not only was what I had learnt insufficient – and I had had a niggling fear for years that this would be the case – but the very pony whom I wished to save did not want me to do so. At first I thought this odd, for she was such a lively, bubbly mare, exactly the sort whom I would have expected to want to live for as long as possible. But the more she talked to me about it, the more I came to understand her position.

It's alright, she told me, as she lay on her deathbed. I know you'll all miss me, and I'm sad about that. But one day, somewhere in the future, we'll meet again. You'll see. Her only living family, her elder sister, wordlessly bowed her head in assent. I don't want to prolong my life. It hasn't been all that fun recently, anyway! The seven of us gathered around her couldn't help but smile at that. It was so like her, to be able to make a joke in spite of the circumstances. She coughed lightly, and closed her eyes. We all moved closer, and held our breath, knowing what would soon happen but not yet feeling quite ready for it. Then she looked up at us for one, last time, and spoke her final words: Never stop smiling.

* * *

A light went out that day. She was the first pony I had met in my new home, my oldest friend there, and now... now she was gone. Gone forever. Gone to a place far better than ours, where the pain she suffered from is no more. I prided myself on being the most well-read unicorn in Equestria. But her last words were still able to teach me something. She taught me to always have hope, to always keep upbeat, to always stay strong. It is not wrong to mourn, it is not wrong to feel keenly the loss of a close friend. But we must always endeavour to be a light, a light for the shadows of other ponies.

I lost my mother as a filly. It took me twenty years to fully let go. Twenty years to realise that not everything we lose is in vain. Twenty years, and the death of another pony close to me. Of all the things friendship has taught me, the acceptance of loss was by far the hardest to learn. But learn it I have, as we all must. Her light may have gone out that day, but the memory of it remains.

Never stop smiling.

Author's Note:

I don't know what made me write this. A close friend died some time ago but that wasn't what inspired the idea... whatever it was, I just hope you all enjoy reading it. And maybe it'll even help somepony, somewhere.

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