Three years and counting...But not down for the count

I have been in a funk for the better part of the week: I haven't slept as well as I usually do (which really hasn't been great of late, but now it's more disrupted), I've felt somewhat unmotivated, I'm having trouble concentrating. But I know what's happening: today is the third anniversary of when P__ went into the hospital. Saturday, the 24th, will be the third anniversary of his death.

Last year, I met someone who had lost her husband. Not in that hospital, mind you, but she did mention that while it had been several years since she'd lost her husband, she still found herself withdrawing a little at the anniversary time. (She also said that she started dating about two years after her husband died.) I'm not sure how long it had been that she'd been widowed, except that it was only a few years longer than I've been there.

In some ways, I envy her. She has gotten on with her life. But I feel like my life is in a holding pattern. Why? Because of the lawsuit.

Do I regret bringing on the lawsuit? No. I'd file it again in a heart beat if the circumstances re-presented themselves. What I am angry about is why I had to file: because of blatent disregard for human life by those in the medical field. If others--enough others--had fought when their loved ones had been harmed at this particular facility, then maybe P__ would still be alive.

Which is why, after three years, I'm still fighting, so that others might have a fighting chance.