Anniversaries are funny sorts of things.

Exactly a year ago, April 7, 2008, I was sitting at home. I was away from school for the weekend; it was my first Easter at college, and looks to have been my last as a preacher's daughter. It was also the day my cat died. We'd had her for fourteen years, and she was my constant, shedding companion through every significant life-moment since I was four.

The real reason I've been contemplating anniversaries, though, doesn't have to do with my cat. A few weeks ago was the fifth year anniversary of the war in Iraq. That day, five years ago, I heard the news report, went into my room, shut the door, and wrote a long and angry and mildly profane diary entry ranting and praying that it would be over quickly and hoping against hope that no one would be killed, somehow.

The week preceding this year's anniversary seemed to me a havoc of news articles and statistics. Every columnist had their own take on the same set of questions: "How are we marking this anniversary?" "Is Iraq better off now than before?" "Will the casualty count hit 4,000 before the anniversary?" "Was the troop surge worth it?" "What will the presidential candidates say about Iraq today?"

In the midst of that flurry, though, I started surfing through the lists and photos of the dead. One soldier's eyes caught my attention, as did the brief news blurb about his death. It said that he had died through non-combat related injuries, and that his death was being investigated. He died on March 31, 2007. One year and one week ago. If an explanation for his death was ever released, I could not find it. I found myself haunted by his photo, his name, the lack of his story. In my thoughts his face merges with my friends in the military, one of whom leaves for Iraq this week.

The man with the eyes that haunt me was the only U.S. soldier to die on 03-31-07. I wonder, though, how many citizens of Iraq? How many people in Darfur? In Myanmar? How many connections are shared, by virtue of the date of death?

I don't have any answers about the war in Iraq, only questions. I've lost count of why we're there, I'm not qualified to say if we've achieved more than we've lost. I can't predict when or how it will end. However, I know that the apathy that set in so quickly as March 19 passed scares me, and that if we're going to change the state of the world that results in such wars, we've got to start realizing the connections and care. Maybe I'm an idealist. But anniversaries happen every day. It's not the dates that matter, it's the people.