This is my 500th column and the 10-year anniversary of Life with Liz. It’s a little overwhelming.

When this whole thing started, I’d been married for 10 years, with a 9-year-old, an 8-year-old and a 5-year-old. We were barely out of the potty-training years, just starting the school years, and thought we had a lifetime of projects and adventures ahead of us.

Now, I have a two adult children (technically, on paper, anyway) and one who is a year away from getting her driver’s license, I’ve been a widow for four whole years, and most days, I’m just glad I got through another one in one piece.

Ten years ago, I thought I would be most proud of my children for their accomplishments, whether they were academic, or athletic, or related to any one of their many activities. I never dreamed that their resilience would become their defining characteristic. Or that I would rely on it to pull me through my darkest days. Of all the ways I thought our lives might turn out, this was definitely not one of them.

If I’d written one column a week for 10 years, I would have 520 by now, but I’m only at 500. So, 20 times, or two weeks out of every 52, I couldn’t bring myself to put something on paper. Of course, there have been clunkers, some recycled hash, some weeks when I just threw anything down, but there have been just as many weeks, if not more, when I’ve been determined to say something, or delighted to share a story, hoping to bring hope or laughter or comfort to someone.

As the kids have gotten older, and, without Steve’s steadying presence to ask me if I really wanted to share that information, I’ve written less and less about them and their personal lives. I think I’ve gravitated more toward how I relate to them, and commentary on their lives in general, rather than the specifics.

Sometimes, I’ve felt a little less authentic, but for as much as I value this space as a repository for my own memories and experiences, I know that their lives are their own for the sharing and I’ve tried not to overstep.

I’ve tried to use my voice to bring attention to matters that are important to me, without getting overtly political. Sometimes, I’ve had more success than others. I don’t think it’s any secret where I stand on many issues facing our communities today.

I would feel myself a failure if I didn’t use the voice I have been so lucky to have been given to stand up for the people and situations that I believe are right. And, someday, if my children read these records, or any generation that comes after them, I want them to know that I wasn’t afraid to speak up.

That’s 500 chances to say something that might change someone’s moment, someone’s day, or even someone’s life. Over the years, one of the biggest communities of people that has reached out to me are fellow cardiac moms. We’ve shared success stories, scary stories, our hopes, our fears, and everything in between.

After the cardiac folks, people who have been through a traumatic loss have also been in touch. Immediately after I lost Steve, I was most grateful for those who reached out and said, “I’ve been where you are, and you’ll get through it.” They were brutally honest about how things would never be the same, and just knowing that they’d made it as far as they had was something I really needed to hear.

It probably sounds cheesy to say that I’ve gotten back more than I feel that I’ll ever give through my writing, but it is true.

Sometimes, the few minutes, or hours, that I take to calm my thoughts and piece things from my life together provide a clarity or answers that I didn’t even know I was looking for. Other times, I’m just glad I had the chance to write something down, before I forget that it even happened.

Above all, the experiences that I shared about Steve, and sharing the writing process with him, has helped keep him present and provide an incredible record of our time together, that is irreplaceable.

Are there 500 more stories to tell? I don’t know. It’s weird to think that in 10 more years, college will be behind us and the three of them will be full-fledged adults. Sadly, I’ll probably have to say goodbye to some of our dearest pets and possibly acquire new ones. Another new job? Who knows? Even a year ago, I wouldn’t have thought that would be happening right now.

One thing I’ve learned though, is that the future can’t be predicted, and that’s why I’m grateful that I’ve gotten to preserve so much of my past. Thank you for 10 wonderful years!

Liz Pinkey’s column appears on Saturdays in the Times News