So much of the last three and a half years have been a blur, being stuck in what feels like survival mode, all the time. However, there have been a few moments of clarity, where something happens, and I realize that we’ve turned a corner of some sort.

My greatest fear has been that the kids will miss out on the life that they should have had if Steve were still here.

Obviously, their lives will never be complete in the way that they were, but at the same time, I know that they need to live life as it is to the fullest, both because they deserve it, and because Steve would never have wanted his death to hold them back.

A’s college acceptance and successful transition to school was one of these moments. G taking the time to outfit his pickup truck so he could take his canoe out regularly was another. These are the moments where I find myself saying, “Yeah, they’re going to be OK.”

Not surprisingly, it has been the hardest for E to have any of these moments. From being the youngest, and feeling robbed of time that her brothers got, to sharing his birth date with him, to her and I fighting our way through her teenage years, as mothers and daughters tend to do, it has been a struggle for both of us to find any of these “OK moments.”

Until E’s “Totally Jaws-ome Waffle Brunch Birthday Party.” One of the very first things that E said to me after I told her the horrible news was that she never wanted to have a birthday again. And, in the moment, I agreed with her completely.

As time went on, we talked about “changing” her birthday to a different day, or celebrating something besides a birthday.

But, nothing felt right to her. I knew she didn’t really want to let go of their shared date, because that would be like losing another piece of him, but celebrating it wasn’t something she was up to either.

Until one day, a few weeks ago, when she was out with her friends, and I got a text “can I have a waffle party for my birthday?” Unsure of whatever a waffle (Steve’s main culinary contribution was always breakfast) party would entail, I immediately agreed to anything at all that she wanted to do.

Sadly for me, however, she, with the help of her friends, planned everything out. They even showed up to help her tidy up our party pavilion area.

E planned everything from decorations to arts and crafts to the menu. I had little to do other than make purchases as needed, but even then, she used a lot of her own earnings to decorate everything with shark-themed items.

(Shark Week inevitably fell the week before our annual beach vacation, and the kids and Steve delighted in watching it and reminding me of “what lurked beneath.”)

I was reduced to worrying about the things I couldn’t control, like the weather, which turned out to be just right for a late morning brunch party.

As her friends gathered, it became even more clear that she had everything under control and a plan for her party, and I resigned myself to lurking, ready to help if needed.

Luckily for me, one of my best friends, and E’s “auntie,” was able to surprise her by showing up. E was thrilled, and I didn’t have to sit alone, which made me less the “creepy lurker mom” and more the “chillin’ by the fire mom.”

And, as I listened to E and her friends chatter and make waffles, I had the “she’s going to be OK” moment I’ve been waiting for. E was surrounded by a thoughtful and fun group of friends, who clearly cared about each other a great deal.

They gently teased each other, and the conversations meandered from the silly to the serious with the ease of people who are supportive and comfortable with each other. I could understand why E was finally ready to celebrate her special day again.

I go back to the single piece of advice that a fellow widow gave me: Get through one minute, then get through one hour, then get through one day. Then do it again and again and again.

I know we still have mountains to climb, and there are still many more rough days than there are smooth ones, and every day, Steve’s absence is keenly noted.

But I’ve graduated from the minutes to the “OK moments” and if we can have one, eventually, we will have another, and another one after that.

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