I'm terribly sad about Farrah's passing. She was incredibly

Hear now, O child of time, the tender words of Cheryl Ladd, who, in mourning her companion, uttered: “I’m terribly sad about Farrah’s passing. She was incredibly brave, and God will be welcoming her with open arms.” Though simple in sound, these words carry the weight of eternity, for they are not merely about one woman’s death, but about the mystery of courage, the dignity of departure, and the hope of divine embrace. They remind us that even in sorrow, there is beauty; even in loss, there is triumph.

The name of Farrah here shines as a symbol. Known to the world as a star of light upon the screen, she became in her final years a star of another kind—one of endurance, faith, and strength in the face of suffering. To say she was incredibly brave is to honor not her fame, but her steadfastness as she walked through the shadowed valley of illness. She bore her pain not in silence, but with dignity, allowing her struggle to inspire countless souls. Thus, her passing was not a fading into darkness, but a setting sun that gilded the horizon with hope for others.

This is no tale of Farrah alone; it is the eternal tale of all who face mortality with courage. Recall the figure of Socrates, who, when condemned to death, drank the hemlock without trembling, saying that no true harm could befall a good man. So too did Farrah, in her struggle, reveal that while the body weakens, the spirit remains unbroken. The bravery Cheryl Ladd speaks of is this same bravery: the heroism not of sword or battle, but of facing the final mystery with unyielding heart.

And what of the phrase, “God will be welcoming her with open arms”? Here lies the promise of solace. For to those who mourn, death feels like a cruel severing. Yet to the one who departs bravely, death is but a doorway, and beyond it stands the Eternal, not as judge with a rod, but as Father, Mother, Shepherd—arms open wide. This image brings comfort, telling us that love is not ended by the grave, but transfigured into a higher embrace. Thus, Cheryl Ladd’s sorrow is tempered by hope, her grief softened by faith.

Let us take heed of the lesson. In life, we may not choose the hour of our leaving, but we may choose the manner of our facing it. To meet death with fear is natural, but to meet it with courage is divine. Bravery is not the absence of fear, but the refusal to be mastered by it. Farrah’s story teaches us that even as the body fails, the soul can inspire; even as the world dims, the light within can shine forth to others. Such is the immortality of the brave.

Nor should this wisdom wait for our final hour. In the daily trials of living, when hardship strikes, when sickness comes, when loss burdens us, we are given chances to practice this same courage. If Farrah, in her great struggle, could face the shadow unbowed, can we not in smaller things rise with strength? Each act of bravery in the ordinary day—whether forgiving, enduring, or standing firm—prepares us for the greater test when it arrives.

Therefore, O listener, let this teaching dwell in your heart: sorrow and courage are woven together, as night and dawn. Weep when the beloved passes, but do not despair, for the brave are never lost. Live your days with kindness and strength, so that when your hour comes, others may say of you also: “They were incredibly brave, and God will be welcoming them with open arms.” And until then, honor the memory of those who walked before you by living fully, by loving deeply, and by meeting hardship not with despair, but with noble resolve.

Thus Cheryl Ladd’s words, spoken in grief, become a timeless teaching. Sadness reminds us of love, bravery reminds us of the human spirit, and the image of God’s open arms reminds us that all journeys lead home. This is the truth handed down: that death is not the end, but a passage, and that those who meet it with courage are crowned not with sorrow, but with eternal welcome.