Memorial of a Lost One

by Cadiefly

First published 23rd of February, 2017

After being diagnosed with a terminal illness, Velvet Scarlet must reassess her life and come to grips with the changing relationships of those close to her.

Velvet's sickness was perhaps the least endearing quality about her, and yet when it became apparent that her health would only continue to deteriorate, it seemed to be the only thing that her close ones seemed to concern themselves with when they spoke to her. Instead of filling their last days of her with lasting memories of who she was and the passions in her life, they would ask her how she was feeling or tell her how they'd pray for her well-being. Her friends and associates distancing themselves from her so as to prepare for the worst, possibly out of their own fear of death, she becomes more alone in her final days. The one exception to this is her dearest friend, Pen Name.

When Velvet had first met Pen Name, a name he'd given himself when he'd finally made his mark in the world of literature, at a coffee shop, he had only just started out in his career as an author. Though he lacked experience, the funny witticisms and profound passion he shaped into his stories moved her in a way that inevitably led to them growing closer as friends. In her dying days it was the memories of their budding companionship that she desired to make long-lasting once she was gone.

This work was inspired by Nugget. Thank you, Nugget!
Now audio read by Wandering Mare! Here's a link for the audio reading.

A Heartfelt Letter

Dear Pen Name,

I write to you in the hopes that I may be able to provide some semblance of closure to you after I'm gone. I'm not sure if we'll ever see each other again, but as my health has taken a turn for the worse, I decided to leave this letter to you as a memento of the times we've shared together. Remember that each day you wake up, I'm right there with you in heart, my dearest friend. Live each day to your fullest, and never let the passions in your life die. You're destined for great success one day, I just know it.

There is so much that I want to tell you in this letter, but I must focus on what's most important. Rather than remembering me for the times in which I'm most vulnerable, when my illness is most prominent, I'd rather spend time talking about the more positive aspects of my life and our time together. I'd like to think of this message as an extension of myself, a means for us to converse with one another about one of your books, or some new discovery you've made, or just whatever you want to talk about. I know it's not much, but this is the least I can do.

You know that promise you made to me at the start of all this? Well, if you're wondering whether or not you've fulfilled that promise, I'm glad to inform you that you have. The last few months of my life have been my happiest. If I had the chance to go back, I wouldn't change a thing about it, except maybe having told you about my condition sooner. Afterward, every day that we were together was a new and unique experience for us, and that is something that I hope you'll cherish just as much as I have.

If there was one event that stood out to me in particular, however, it would be that one time we had gone mountain climbing together. Do you remember it? We had just climbed our way to the peak, and on our way back down a wild snake had slithered its way across our path, brushing itself against your hoof. Not knowing what it was, your initial reaction was to jump away in fright. I found the embarrassed look on your face quite endearing. The innocence of it all was a nice contrast to your otherwise outwardly serious demeanor, the only side of you most ponies get to see.

As if that wasn't enough to make our hiking trip special, that night we had camped out underneath the stars. You'd point out that in your research for one of your works you had discovered a theory that these tiny brilliantly shining lights in the sky could actually be suns like our own. Your face appeared positively astounded when I had made the quick inference that if that was the case then maybe there are other places like this as well. I couldn't help but be amused when you had pulled out your notebook and began jotting down ideas.

I feel like I must apologize. After having reread my letter to you, I realized that I had meant to include more about myself for you to look back on, but instead I've been focusing more on your own qualities. Yet, I cannot think of writing this without it being about you too. Just as my participation in our daily excursions have helped you grow as a writer, so too has your involvement in my life spurned me to grow as an individual.

Before we had met, I was mostly anti-social outside of my job as a Nurse, and early on in my career, I had even been nervous in dealing with others. To mitigate the problem, I had come up with a joke to relieve some of my stress. Do you remember what it was?

"When I went to get my vaccinations, the young nurse told me she was very nervous as it was her first time. I told her to give it her best shot."

The joke was pretty simple, but you laughed so hard you were practically on the floor. I hadn't thought it would be that funny to anypony but myself, yet you seemed to have enjoyed the joke more than even me. Somehow this simple interaction had caused me to come out of my shell. Perhaps this did not actually mark the beginning of me overcoming my anti-social awkwardness, but it was certainly the first time I had visibly noticed the development.

My parents, as well, noticed the change as if it happened overnight. One night I had come home late from another hard shift feeling elated despite my tiredness. Having noticed my smile, my mother took me aside to ask if something had changed in my life. I told her that there had been, that I had met a stallion. She cried tears of joy as she hugged me.

"You've been distant for so long, I thought you were depressed," she had said. "I tried to confront you about it more than once, to comfort you, but you kept telling me you were just fine. I'm so glad to see you like this again. A smile is very becoming of you, Velvet."

For the first time in a long while, my parents and I had a deeper communication, and I owe all my thanks to you for making that a reality. I guess in some ways we can take for granted that when we have loved ones close to us, we will inherently create wonderful and meaningful memories together without really taking time out in our day to really talk to them. Perhaps it was this realization that had made me finally connect with my parents again.

At nights around our dinner table, provided that my work schedule allowed it, there was mirth and laughter which left our hearts warm and joyful. We exchanged funny stories back and forth as we ate and carried on. Did you know that my mother had once been a part of a band as a child? She wasn't very good at it; apparently, she and her friends were so bad at it that the crowd had believed that she had been a part of a comedy routine.

My father had interesting stories as well; one time he had-

---

I hope you don't mind the new crinkle this letter now adorns. I must have passed out while writing this. I've been so weak lately, I fear I may not have much longer. If only I didn't have this cursed sickness, then I wouldn't have any worries about not being able to finish. Though if that was the case, then I guess there wouldn't be any need to finish writing it in the first place.

Even though I had stated that I would try to only focus on good qualities of my life, I worry that glossing over the fact that my illness will inevitably lead to my death is my way of somehow trying to deny the fact altogether. I admit that I am still quite terrified by the prospect of dying. I have little doubt that there is nothing in this world that could prepare me for what is about to come, and I don't think my opinion on the matter would have changed if I lived to be twice my age. I have come to terms with it, however. There is nothing I can do to change the outcome, and with this acknowledgement comes a certain peace of mind.

My parents, on the other hoof, are vehemently denying my sickness being terminal at all. They're trying to give me hope that one day I'll just magically get better and walk out of here, contrary to the fact that my prolonged weakness continues to ail me. Despite their continued efforts, they haven't found any doctors to give them a second opinion. Still, they are looking even to the farthest reaches of Equestria. I'm not holding my breath that they'll actually find what they're looking for, but I appreciate their sentiment. They're doing everything they can to be with their daughter just a little bit longer, and at the same time they're coping in the only way they know how - by not giving up.

Which is more than I can say for my colleagues; they've been downright distant with me ever since I informed them of my incurable, at least by today's conventionally accepted medical practices, disease. Their platitudes always seemed hospitable enough. 'Get well soon'. 'I pray for your recovery'. The looks we exchanged as they spoke to me were difficult to read. Present in their eyes were worry, sadness, and even fear. I don't think they meant to be distant; I think they were scared, like my predicament reminded them of their own mortality. I believe that is part of the reason why I waited so long after discovering about my ailment to tell you.

Thinking on it, how long ago was that now? I suppose it was when I started breathing laboriously even after the most mundane of tasks. I remember heading to the doctor's office for a follow up meeting on my medical tests. The details after entering his office are rather hazy, so I don't really recall happened the rest of the day. My parents were with me at the time, I think. Over the next few days they grieved, and they hugged me whenever they got the chance.

I don't mean to part these words with you to depict a despondent outlook when somepony dies but to contrast it with the charming memories we have made together, that perhaps they were made more beautiful because of the grim reality of my condition. I am dying, but despite that I have never been more alive than now, and I owe all of that to you and to my parents.

Before I go, I have one last request of you. Live out every day as if it were your last. Stand by your loved ones; cherish them, and love them each day. Make your memories count, and don't forget, I'll always be watching over you, my dearest friend. So if you're ever in doubt, or if you're ever feeling down, just look up to the sky and remember the times we've shared.

'The impact of the memories we instill in others, both the good and the bad, will linger long after we're gone. Treasure your loved ones always.'

With Love,

Velvet Scarlet

Author's Notes:

In light of one of my best friends in the whole wide world being recently diagnosed with cancer, I wrote this piece to try to get a better understanding of the psychological impact one goes through when they get cancer as well as those around them.

I additionally wrote it because I was moved by Nugget's piece in trying to convey that in the end it's the happy memories of those close to us that we must cherish the most and that we must live every day of our lives to our fullest.

I deliberately left out what Velvet's disease it was, as I don't feel it is pertinent to the message of this story, but if you haven't checked out this one-shot's predecessor yet, it has the specifics detailed inside.