She just couldn't do it.
Rarity was a good soul. She had friends beyond even the borders of Equestria, and a future that all of us would have given anything to have. Up until the end, I think we all liked to imagine she still had it together. Maybe that's why no one reached out. Her smile was still warm, even though her eyes were blood shot. She still kept her calm voice and speech elegant, even though her words were slurred. And she always looked her best, even though we knew she had no money to do it with. Maybe...maybe we are the ones to blame for what really happened. Maybe it was our fault.
It started so simple. It was one tiny thing, and then her world began a never ending landslide of pain and suffering from which none of us could bring her out of. I'll never forget that day, the day she would talk about for years. The day she blames, the actions she blames, and the person she blamed...for all of it. That day had been a happy one at first, at least as happy as it could have been. Spike had been with twilight and the other ponies for many years now. The world seemed at Harmony. It had felt like ages since anything weird had come to try and destroy the land, or it's royalty. Everyone had settled into a quiet, simple life. Spike though, now older than we he first came to Ponyville was in bad shape. While in dragon terms he had not aged much at all, to the ponies, he had aged much. These sixteen years from the time he was an egg passed quickly it seemed. But with no other dragons around, or even anything remotely connected to his people or its lands, he fell into a deep depression. For the longest time he as catatonic. He would go weeks without eating, or moving. Only sleeping, sleeping and waiting. We had to watch as it broke Twilight's heart, and thusly, everyone around her. He was inconsolable. Finally, she knew what had to be done. With a heavy heart and tears in her eyes, she freed Spike from her service. In a few days time, he would head for the dragon lands, and would remain there for all time. He could visit, but we all knew he wouldn't. His dragon urges were too great.
The party lasted for three days, and in that time, everyone who knew spike got a chance to say goodbye. We danced, we sang, we ate and drank, we danced, and we cried. We cried and cried and cried. Life as we knew it would no longer be as great. No longer be as powerful, or as joy filled as when he was here. On the night of the third day, Spike asked to see her. To see Rarity. She of course, being generous and caring in her heart, allowed him to visit her that night. He went to her door in the late evening. He came with a box, and a bottle of cider. They sat on her couch in front of a fire place, quietly reminiscing on their personal past. How they never did anything to further what relationship they did enjoy. This went into the night, and into several cider bottles. It was close to midnight I would say, when Spike finally kissed her. This was to no surprise, and Rarity did not say no. They spoke on it some more, of their feelings and of happy times. More cider was gone, and then Spike asked to spend the night. She smiled at him, but it was not real. She knew he would be gone, so there would be no real consequence for her actions. She knew this. And Spike did too, in a way. She led him to her room, and shut the door. By the time she awoke, Spike was gone. Nothing left of him but a note and an necklace. A necklace made of gems like the which she had never seen. Even in her worst times, she wore that necklace, and I was glad to see she never sold it, even when she knew it could save her. Was it fool hardy? Yes, but I think it was one of the only things she had left to remind her of what she had.
Spike spent the next few years writing to her. He wrote to her almost every week, even more so than Twilight. I know deep down she never forgave her for that, maybe not even now. It was not long before they knew what she had done. Taken advantage of a sad, desperate, love starved dragon they had said. Rarity never saw it that way. Not once, not ever. Spike took it the hardest, and all morning long Twilight had to keep assuring him he HAD to leave, even though he would not budge on telling her what had made him change his mind. Life continued on, if not just a bit quieter. This was of course until that one spring morning.
Rarity was sitting in her dress shop I think, when she opened the report. Just another sales report from her many shops and lines. It showed a dip in her sales. Nothing to be alarmed of, everything goes up and down, and Rarity did not prepare for what would happen. None of us could have known...but even when we saw it happen, we did nothing. Rarity had five different shops now. One in Ponyville, one in Canterlot, one in Manehattan, one in Las Pegasus, and one in Appleoosa. It had been the Appleoosa branch that showed the dip first. It always was the hardest to keep, and many financial advisors had warned against her building there. She had done it anyway. She had too. She was an artist and the world needed to see it. Except...she was an artist, in a small town. She was good, but she was not GREAT. She was different, but she was not UNIQUE. In time, and as her age caught up to her, her ideas and plans began to slip, and so did her touch. The tastes of younger ponies began to change, and her tastes became sour and bitter in their mouths. What started as a one dip became another, and another. And yet another still. Rarity was blind to it I think, not because of what was going on...but I think because she chose to ignore it. It was one of the only things that kept her from breaking down. The idea of her whole world, the only thing she was good at leaving...was heartbreaking. She lived way outside her means, always relying on her massive income at the end of the month to pay her bills. She had lines of credit in every city, and debt beyond debt, but always had the means to cover it. In the beginning anyway.
We saw her in the months that began her decline. With a heavy heart, she had to sell the Appleoosa store. With what money she got, and the materials she had, she was able to pay off most of what she still owed on it, but the dip hurt her. It hurt her in more ways than one. Gossip travels fast when you live in the life of high nobles as she did, and it took only days for them too see her as just a failure on the way out. Her memberships began to disappear, she was declined for renewals, and the people she once thought her friends left her in the dust. Soon, more sales. Her fancy jewelry and appliances. Her furniture, he trinkets and trophy's. All of them had to go, her stores weren't bringing anything in. That necklace...that necklace could have saved her, but she hid it away in one of her lockboxes. I think it was maybe a month later when the Las Pegasus stored burned to the ground. No one could rule that it was on purpose but...I think we all knew. It was too precise. Rarity was not a dumb one. She was crafty, she was learned. And in her age she was not afraid to play dirty. It still broke us inside, to see her stoop to such levels.
I said we were to blame, and maybe we are. We as her friends never changed our own lives for her, even though we should have. Rarity pretended like everything in her life was fine, so we, too afraid to make her face reality, did as well. We never spoke of her failed shops. We never spoke of her debt, or her slowly emptying house. We did not speak of her tear stains, or of the...less than admirable stallions leaving her house in the break of morning. We even chose to ignore the growing, lingering smell of cider that began to permeate her and her belongings. We chose to keep accepting her gifts, even though we knew we could not. And yet even as we saw her start to slip...we did nothing.
When the Manehattan store was bought out by one of Rarity's rivals, I think that is when the truth had begun to set in. She was losing everything about her life, about what made Rarity herself. She could no longer find a way to fight it. She began to scramble, throw everything she could out there. Her health began to suffer. The drink made up more of her nourishment than food did, and yet, we allowed it to happen as such. We were too afraid to write to her, to knock on her door. It was so much easier to trot on by, pretending that we didn't care...but we did. It ate away at us every night as we would look out our windows towards the still burning lights of her Boutique. We should have been the ones...we should have.
I can't remember myself what I was doing the day the train crashed. I would like to think I was thinking about her, or maybe had said something to her earlier that day that lifted her spirits in some way. Maybe she was at the Spa, trying to forget all her troubles. Maybe she was...but maybe she wasn't. I remember I was at Fluttershy's house when we heard the news. Rainbow Dash had been the first to say it. We got to the train station as fast as we could. It wasn't that bad...all except that one car. The car to first class. The one she always rode in, and the one she insisted her family ride in too. This she never let go of. Sometimes when she would weep at night, or when she was in the bottom of her glass, she would mutter about the train. They said her family never had a chance, that the car had been crushed instantly. The conductor had fallen asleep, and didn't see the other train. It was the one car with a faulty cage system, one no one expected. Her mother...her father...and her sister, precious Sweetie Belle, gone in an instant. Our only comfort, which we so foolishly reminded her of, was that it had been instant. Somehow in our minds, the idea of them feeling no pain made us think that she would feel no pain as well. We were wrong.
Her hurt and pain never left her, and as we watched her last jewel leave, her shop in Canterlot, she entered the point where I knew she would not come back from, no matter what we did. And I, thinking it was right...told everyone to not try. To let it go, and that she needed to recover on her own. I...I don't know why I did it. I probably won't know. Ever. Thing's changed after that. She had only one shop left, and it was her home. She had supplies beyond supplies left from the other stores, but it was rare for her to make more things. She took only one personal design a week. While she would always get it done, not a day went by her eyes weren't red. Not a day went by her hooves didn't begin to shake just a bit, and her despair didn't grow. I made the mistake of checking her mail, just once, because she hadn't left the house in four days. There were the letters from Spike...poor, poor Spike. She had stopped writing him now, even blowing him off and yelling in many of her letters. Twilight had helped him but...she was something he didn't want to let go. There were bills and bills. Her credit lines were due, her loans were being called in, and she had nothing. I remember we all asked if she needed help, some of us more than once, even though we knew it meant she would yell and scream, and then would not talk to us for days. We were worried but...not worried enough. If we had been...we could have saved her. But we didn't.
I'll never forget that morning. It still hangs in my head like a burnt on picture. An image that will never go...and I feel maybe it was the image that she had kept of her family after the accident. I remember she had sold it all. All of it. She had taken herself out of debt completely, had managed to clear her name to a neutral place. Pinkie Pie had gotten her a job at the bakery. She wanted to stay in the back, away from people. She managed the inventory. She was miserable. And then in the evenings, would go sit with Applejack at the farm just...talking. Mostly listening. I know Applejack blames herself for what had happened next, but we know none of us could have known. When a door to someone's soul is so tightly shut...there is no way to just force yourself in. Her house and what few things in it were all that was left. I had walked up that morning...I...thought nothing of it as I opened the door. She...she had left it just slightly open. Maybe hoping they would find her, someone at least. Maybe her friends. Certainly not myself...but I did. There were so many bottles...so many bottles I couldn't even count. I called out to her. I could her the bottles kicking as I more frantically called out to her. I still her the clanking of glass. And then I got to her door. It was quite, calm. I think for the first time in what seemed like years, she was happy. She was happy and calm. All her stress was gone from her body, all her pain had left. I called to her once more, my voice choking in my throat. She had candles lit everywhere, and a record was softly playing. It was the song she had played at her family's funeral. Looking down by her night stand is where I saw the bottle. The bottle of tranquilizers used to soothe the pigs during pregnancy. She had taken them all, and washed them down with a bottle of wine she had been saving for her wedding a day...a day that never got to happen. Clutched in her hand...was that necklace. Tears dried onto her face. In the end, she never forgot about the one who loved her. At least...I would like to think as much, I would like to hope so.
As we all sit here today, gathered one last time to remember her...I know we are all at fault. We are all to blame for our friend leaving, and we are at fault for not doing more. I...know...that at the end of the day, I will go home to my wife. I will hug her and kiss her, I will help her in the garden and play with the animals. Our life will go on. Your life will go on. And in a few months time this will all just be another thing. Just another day, just another moment in time we look back on and think when we are alone or sad, or deep in a bottle. But we can't. We need to look at this as a warning. A warning about what could happen to us. To any of us. And we need to remind ourselves you cannot ever help someone enough. Maybe if we had...she would be here. Ponyville lost a shining star that day...and now, as we commend her back into the earth...we bury not just her, but that part of us she took with her. And we deserve to lose it. In the end, we were not worthy of the love and generosity she gave us.
Join me one last time in honoring our dear friend...Rarity, element of Generosity.