My father was buried in Manehattan today. Something I never realized was how well-known he was. Hundreds were in attendance for his funeral. Old co-workers, business partners, a few rather affluent ponies, and even a stallion who claimed to have been saved from drowning by my father. It was unexpected, and many ponies approached me to offer their condolences. I simply thanked them. I thought that perhaps I could say something more comforting, but nothing came to mind. In the light of possibly saying something offensive, I decided to say as little as possible and wear a pained look on my face.

Twilight also decided to accompany me despite my protests. I figured that a princess had more pressing matters to attend to, but she told me otherwise. I smiled as she went into one of her passionate monologues about friendship, agreeing with most of her points and finding a small smidge of my heart coming alight.

She really does believe in the things she says, and not because she thinks it will make her look good. The things she believes in are the truth of the universe to her. It’s times like this where I feel so much older than her. I used to think there was a true right and wrong back when my head was full of hormones, but now I know there isn’t that sort of absolute in the world. Sometimes, I think I do things because it makes me look better, and sometimes for other reasons, but right now I don’t know if I can do something because it’s the right thing. Mostly because I don’t know what the right thing is.

I felt some spark inside of me as she went on, and that was when I let her come with me.

I was to give a eulogy at the funeral, and as I approached the lectern the single cup of coffee this morning decided to upset my delicate stomach. I didn’t want to show my heartlessness in front of so many ponies. I know there is something wrong with me, that I won’t deny, but I didn’t want everyone else to know that. I ran off the stage and was sick in the washroom. It didn’t embarrass me though. Ponies are sometimes sick when struck with grief, and I know a pony would be a fool to think less of me. I even heard a few “poor thing”s as I ran off.

It was only after I returned that I noticed something I feel like I definitely should have noticed before. More than half of those in attendance, ponies I barely knew but were great friends with my father, were my earliest clients. This funeral was as much a funeral for my father as it was a gathering of every rich schmuck who had bought into my silly fashions. Even Hoity Toity and Sapphire Shores were there, and not because I invited them.

It was only at this point where I began to cry.

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