The wrongful death lawsuit is over.
It has been determined, by lawyers, a judge and insurance adjusters, that in agreement with the medical examiner who determined his death to be a homocide, the two men who caused my husband’s death are indeed responsible.
A settlement was made. All parties agreed.
After 3 years, the ordeal is over.
The trips to courthouses are over.
The phone calls with the lawyer and private investigators are over.
The depositions and nasty questions are over.
The signing of legal forms and faxing of important papers is over.
The proof of lost income and outstanding bills is over.
The personal days off from work are over.
The interviews with news media are over.
The participation from witnesses is over.
The analysis of the medical treatment and procedures is over.
The scrutiny over the autopsy is over.
The unpleasant arguing with sides is over.
The negotiations and mediations are over.
The letters written to politicians and leaders of our justice system are over.
The petition signing campaign is over.
The tears in retelling to others what happened that night are over.
The waiting is over.
I thought I would feel better when it was all over, but I don’t really feel better.
Sure, they had to pay. But surely not enough.
Why aren’t they in jail?
Why hasn’t their life been turned upside down?
Why do their kids still have a father?
Why aren’t their wives widows?
I know life isn’t fair.
I know I can not change the past.
I know I put in a good effort to hold them responsible.
I know, that no matter what happened, my husband was never going to come back.
I know there would never have been a happy ending to this chapter.
Knowing that it’s over, my head feels a sense of relief.
Knowing that it’s over, my heart can’t stop hurting.
Now, I need to leave the rest to the Universe.
I hope Karma is real.
