by Anthony Pritchard
In Loving Memory of Linda Faye Pritchard
October 32, 1953 – April 15, 2021
It is with deepest sorrow that we announce the passing of Linda Faye Pritchard, 67, of Sioux Falls, SD.
She passed peacefully at home, as was her way—gently, without struggle or pain—slipping quietly into the arms of her Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, on Thursday, April 15, 2021.
Linda was a beloved wife, mother, sister, and friend. She is survived by her husband of 40 years, Anthony “Tony” Pritchard; her son, Benjamin “Ben” Pritchard; brothers James L. Pigg Jr. (Shirley) and Michael Pigg; brother-in-law Troy Pritchard; sister-in-law Dee Ellis of Coleman, MI; and a large extended family of cousins and friends whose lives were blessed by her presence.
It has been an honor and a blessing beyond expression to be her husband. I will see you soon, with God in heaven.
A funeral service will be held at 11:00 a.m. on Thursday, April 22, at Miller Funeral Home – Downtown, 507 S. Main Ave., Sioux Falls, SD. Interment will follow at the South Dakota Veterans Cemetery, Sioux Falls, at a later date.
I Didn’t Know
Anthony Pritchard — May 21, 2021
It started with a slight cough and a backache. We were worried it might be COVID, but no other symptoms appeared. She became weak and tired, but she was still able to get up and around.
We worried. She was extremely fearful of the COVID test and refused to take it.
But it wasn’t COVID.
She died during a nap. I found her on the sofa, April 15, 2021—thirty-six days ago (from the day I wrote this). My son and I performed CPR until the first responders arrived, even though I knew it was too late. Her body was already cool to the touch when I found her.
The death certificate listed the cause as myocardial infarction—a heart attack due to hyperlipidemia.
I was incensed. She had shown no signs of heart trouble, and her cholesterol levels were normal.
Yes, she had been ill—weak, with no appetite—but we didn’t realize she was dying, yet she was.
We just didn’t know.
I didn’t know.
And I should have.
Incensed, I called the Deputy Coroner and protested. We met in person. There had been no autopsy, no blood work. They never even removed her from the body bag.
Linda may very well have died of a myocardial infarction—but we’ll never know for sure. The Coroner told me to my face that the listed cause was just his “best guess,” based on her age—sixty-seven years old.
We just didn’t know.
If only we had known.
February 10, 2022
Losing a beloved, long-term spouse.
People can suffer similar pain, and some will say, “I know how you feel.”
But we don’t.
Linda and I built our own marriage—crafted a love that was wholly ours. The bond we shared was unlike any other in this world. That great forty-year love—and still continuing—between Linda and me.
Yes, like many others, I feel the overwhelming grief. I understand the soul-bleeding pain that often accompanies it. Yet no one can know our love—the one shared between a husband and wife—which stands alone, set apart in its intimacy, known only to those two.
No one can truly comprehend the love that was ours. For there has never been, nor will there ever be, another like it.
So it is with Linda and me: pure, sacred, complete, and unique. A love with its own everlasting fingerprints upon our souls.
No one can fully understand another’s loss.
Tony Pritchard
Linda Pritchard October 32, 1953 — April 15, 2021
Tony & Linda July 11, 1981 — April 15, 2021
After the death of my beloved wife, I looked out and saw the world going on as if nothing had happened—people laughing and living their lives with their families, as it should be. And yet it struck me deeply: Don’t you people know that my beloved wife of forty years died?
How can the world just... continue?
The so-called “stages of grief” are a poor map for the terrain. While some elements may be present, they never follow a clean order. Some people experience fewer stages than those listed, others more. And just when I think I’ve gained a foothold, a wave of grief overwhelms me again. I’ve never found anger toward my beloved reasonable, though for many, anger toward God is more common than we might care to admit.
Recriminations—how they torment the soul. Though they are part of the grieving process and often fade with time, the man of sin will use them against you and against the cause of Christ. But know this: we are human. We are not perfect. And more often than not, those self-accusing thoughts are magnified by Satan beyond what is true. Many of them aren’t even valid.
I grieve to say it, but grief is not something we “push through” to reach the other side. What we feel is our love for the one we’ve lost—stripped of any avenue for expression in this life. There is no "other side." We absorb, adapt, and accept. It is a complete alteration of our former life—a redefinition of who we are and how we live. Only God remains unchanged in His unchangeableness.
Yet even in the midst of that unwanted upheaval, joy can endure and grow. For joy is a fruit of the Spirit of God (Galatians 5:22). Happiness depends on circumstances. And so, in sorrow, we are not “happy.” But joy—being born of God—does not depend on our circumstances. Though it may be hard to see or feel at present, it remains. Happiness may return with time, but it will always be accompanied by the trace of grief we carry forward.
It is also called the lethargy of grief. C.S. Lewis described it as laziness, but I find myself profoundly lethargic—across the full spectrum of life’s activities. The only thing that has lifted the fog in my mind is God’s Word and the study of doctrine. In the first year after my beloved’s passing, I purchased over forty books—most of them theological in nature.
Postscript
I still grieve—sometimes as much as when it first happened. —Tony