Sure, I had stuff listed there: high school football games, tutoring, Wonderhubby's birthday, physical therapy appointments, cheer parent meetings.
But that wasn't it.
Something. It was something.
This morning I figured it out.
Today would have been my 18th anniversary, had I stayed married to He Who Shall Not Be Named -- and, of course, had he lived to tell about it.
Eighteen is an auspicious number in the Jewish tradition.
I borrowed this definition from About.com because my feeble attempts to explain it were inadequate:
The word for "life" in Hebrew is "chai." The two Hebrew letters that make up the word "chai" are chet and yud. In Gematria (the numerical value of Hebrew letters), chai is equivalent to 8 and yud is equivalent to 10. So "chai," chet and yud together, equals 18. Giving money in multiples of $18 is symbolic of giving "chai" or life. Many people give money in mulitiples of $18 as presents to someone celebrating a birth, a bar or bat mitzvah or a wedding.
So, on the anniversary of "life," I remember -- but only briefly -- the years of "death."
And then, I sweep those cobwebs back to the trash heap where they belong, and give thanks for my amazing (and patient) husband; my baby girl, who doesn't have to live under that cloud; my boys, who survived the years and love me anyway.
And the life I have. The beautiful, sweet, loving, delightfully boring life that I have.