http://needs-more-twidash.tumblr.com/post/88910561125/my-dad

"My dad was an amazing flier. No doubt about that. He was good enough for the Wonderbolts even, and everyone knew it—even the Wonderbolts. But the entire time he tried to join them, their roster was full—which I guess is pretty strange. The Wonderbolts don’t usually have a complete team for that many years in a row.

Dad took it personally though. He thought they were mocking him.
That’s when Dad turned to me. I had always wanted to be an expert stunt-flier, just like him. And I had the childhood dream of joining the Wonderbolts. Now he was determined to make sure that I got in, and that I would be the best flier in the history of Equestria. I was eager to try, of course.

At first, the lessons were straight forward, if challenging. Dad gave me breaks often enough, but he always pushed me to do more. To be faster and stronger everyday. When I messed up, he would show me how to do better next time. It was intense training, but I enjoyed it, I guess; My dad was a legend in my eyes, and getting so much direct attention and training from him awesome!

I didn’t get much free time though. I lost contact with my childhood friends over the years, who moved on with their lives. Except for Fluttershy. We didn’t get to hangout much either, but she would sometimes come over and watch me train with my dad. She was always a good friend like that.

It was like this for years. As I got older, Dad started entering me in junior flight competitions. All our effort must have paid off, as I won most of them, and placed 2nd or 3rd in the rest. I was on my way to becoming a elite flier!

Then things changed a bit… I’m not sure what exactly happened to dad, but he suddenly got very grim and sullen. Angry even, sometimes. I think it had something to do with a slot on the Wonderbolts actually opening up—and him not being picked. Maybe because he had spent so much time training me, he hadn’t kept himself in peak condition? I don’t really know. He didn’t talk about it.

We still continued my training, and he was more determined than ever now. He even started talking about even higher lofty goals, like trying to get me to be the youngest mare to ever join the Wonderbolts, or to be the next Royal Flight General. Or even starting our own team to compete and beat the Wonderbolts, with me being the captain.

The training got brutal. He was relentless in the exercises. We flew obstacle courses in the fierce storms, did marathon flights over the ocean, and tried to break the aerial sprint records between major cities. We didn’t take many breaks anymore, and he was extremely harsh and critical of my mistakes.

Honestly, it was too much for me—But I didn’t want to admit it at the time. Even mom tried to step in and stop him, and he may have listened to her. He may have finally gotten a hold of himself then. But I was dumb and stubborn, and determined to not let myself be beaten. So I stuck with it. I told him I could handle anything he could throw at me.

The training only got harsher from then, and despite me volunteering for the training, part of me started to hate him for putting me through this. His aggressive regimen, and vicious critiques of my skill. I was getting to the point where I just wanted to kick his flank and be done with the whole thing. But I couldn’t make myself give up. To me, that was weakness.

But, as difficult as the training was—It really did refine my skill to the razor edge it is now. I had become the top of my class, and a local legend in my own right.

Dad started drinking a lot around this time. In his fits, he got angrier at times. Or more reserved and withdrawn at others. Sometimes he would talk about doing impossible tasks, to prove to the world he was the best; Like flying around the world in a ten days, or flying to the moon and back. Crazy stuff like that.

One day we were sitting on a cliff-side, and he was going through his usual drunken spiel.  Said he was going to do it: Fly around the world in only ten days. And then he took off. I didn’t believe him of course—he’s done this before, and he always came back in a day or two, when the alcohol wore off.

But this time…he never did come back. We searched for days—all of us, me, mom, friends, family, even a squad of soldiers were dispatched to look for him. But we couldn’t find him.

To this day, he’s still missing.

I’m older now, and I’d like to think a bit wiser. I think I know how dad felt all those years.;He didn’t want the world to forget him. It’s still hard for me to forgive him for the brutal training he put me through—I mean sure, I’m an ace flier now, but I still think he went over-the-top. It wasn’t needed for me to get as good as I am now. Plus, his harsh criticism of my skills gave me a lot of insecurities I’m still fighting against today.

But… yeah. I do forgive him. He wasn’t the perfect dad, but I know he tried. He wanted to be recognized for his talents, just like I do. He didn’t mean to be as rough as he was. He just couldn’t see through his own emotional baggage to realize what he was doing. But behind it all, I know that more than anything, he just wanted me to succeed where he failed. To be immortalized as a flying legend. He wanted that more for my sake, than his own.

I miss him. I’m the amazing flier I am today because of him. But I never thanked him for that. And I never thanked him for at least trying to be the best dad he could. And really, that’s all we can ever ask for.

I do love my dad. And I wish him a happy Father’s Day, where ever he is.”