I've got to move on . . . just a little. St. Patrick's Day is Saturday. I got cornered on Facebook and invited one person, who was Hollister's protege, and invited her to come to the house. Now, I've invited my sister, a friend of Hollister's, and his nephew and his family. I think that's enough.

It's not really a 'traditional' St. Patty's Day celebration. I'll be cooking on the grill - ribs are on the menu. Hollister loved when I grilled and we had people over to our house. When Hollister's friend got me on Facebook, she was talking about his birthday on the 27th. I don't think I can face that with others. Free food on St. Patty's Day? I think I can do that.

Hollister would have loved it. I can hear him telling me about how this friend of his needed help - and needed to meet me. I can hear him saying how I needed to mend fences with my sister - like he needed to do (and did) with his surviving sister. I can see and feel him guiding me. That's cool. Somewhere between who he was, and who I am, is a balance I need.