I needed a few weeks to collect my thoughts, have a few breakdowns, and try to wrap my head around our first major holiday without Steve. In the middle of all of that, I’ve been trying to help the kids move from winter to spring sports, continuing to try to build my bond with Duncan and teach Henson some kind of obedience, getting the house projects lined up, and yes, still trying to finish up all the Steve paperwork. I’ve moved into this stage where if I stop too long, I just start to think and get overwhelmed by the sadness, so it’s just easier to keep moving. It’s an exhausting strategy, but for now, it’s working.

I was expecting the holiday to be bad, and it was. I think most moms out there will understand the mom side of the holiday versus the dad side of the holiday, and that was definitely the tradition in our family as well, but Steve always played up the fun parts, the parts that were most memorable to the kids.

Last year’s traditional Easter egg hunt was especially hilarious since Steve played the role of Easter Bunny and hid the majority of the eggs. Duncan, our well-trained (at the time) hunting dog, immediately came out and tracked all of them, attempted to eat most of them, and gave the kids a good run for their money on the few that I managed to hide.

Holidays were also the days that we gave ourselves permission to stay in our pajamas all day and do nothing except enjoy good food, naps and whatever other shenanigans the holiday brought. I couldn’t face a day of doing nothing at home all day, so I packed us up and got out of town.

If nothing else, I figured we could be distracted by the change of scenery. I opted to head to the beach, although not Ocean City, the scene of dozens of family trips over the years. Instead, I rented a tiny, dog-friendly cottage just outside of Cape May that was a minute from a quiet, less-traveled beach where the dogs and the kids could relax and play.

The beach has always been my happy place, but it’s also where I go to regroup and refocus. Just sitting on the sand, listening to the waves crash always centers me, and I was hoping for some peace and healing for myself as well.

Things started off pretty well. The kids had had a busy week and either fell asleep or were happy to zone out on the ride down. We hit a little bit of weather and traffic around Philly, but just as we crossed the bridge and made it to New Jersey, a huge rainbow appeared in the sky. I felt like it was a good omen, a reassurance that I was doing the right thing.

We got to our cottage and it was perfect for our needs. I didn’t realize it when I booked it, but it was quite tiny. As we settled in, I could hear Steve complaining about how nothing was big enough to accommodate him, and I was actually grateful for the tight quarters as it made the hole in our family less obvious, and also gave me a ringside seat to observe the kids. We’ve been so busy these last few weeks, I felt like we’d all been moving in different directions, and I was anxious to check in with all of them in a relaxed environment to see how they were really doing.

As the kids unpacked, a fight over the bunk bed broke out. I guess when you don’t travel for a few years (thank you, COVID) you don’t realize that your kids have outgrown the appeal of a bunk bed. One of them graciously offered to sleep on the couch, just as we realized that one of the bathrooms was only a half bath, and we all had to share one shower. It wasn’t quite as perfect as I’d hoped, but I figured we could survive for three days.

The weather cooperated and we had a lovely day on the beach, just being mellow. The dogs had a blast playing in the surf, chasing crabs and digging craters in the sand. A caught up on his reading and G and E did their usual exploring. The two of them even ended up waist deep in the ocean. Following that, we strolled around Cape May and shared many lighthearted moments about what Dad would say or think as we people watched and tried out new ice cream shops.

All in all, I was feeling pretty good about our decision to get away. Then, the kids asked if we could spend part of a day doing all their old favorite things in Ocean City. I was hesitant, but A reminded me that Dad would want us to enjoy the things he loved, and we should try to have fun. So, we headed up the coast. I will say that I do think it was a good thing for the kids. Also, I didn’t mind that a few of Steve’s favorite restaurants didn’t seem to have survived the pandemic, but we did end up at what used to be my favorite pizza place. For once, we didn’t have to wait until one of their two tables for five or more cleared, and we got seated at a regular booth. At that point, the day overwhelmed me, and I just couldn’t take missing him anymore.

The kids ate their pizza and I may have stretched the truth a little when I said I was sure that our parking meter was running out and we needed to leave immediately. The next morning, Easter morning, we got up early for one more walk on the beach, and then we cleaned up and headed home, a much more somber group than when we arrived. I’ve realized that any lengthy trip away from home always makes me wonder if Steve will be waiting for us when we get back, which is obviously not happening, but I can’t seem to stop myself from thinking it.

I guess the best that can be said is that we survived and it’s behind us now. Some say the first holiday is the hardest, others say that the big ones are always hard. I guess we’ll find out. At least we have a slew of minor ones ahead of us so we can work out all the kinks.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.