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On the Raptors making the NBA Finals, and closure

On April 4th, 2010, I could have done something else. It was weekend afternoon in high school — surely there was a Wii in a friend’s basement I would have been welcome to play, or a laid back set of parents opening up their house to a bunch of idiot 12th graders looking to be idiot 12th graders. To be 17 is to spread yourself thin socially. There were options that day.

The plan I landed on didn’t involve any of my high school pals. It involved my best friend, my Grandpa Jack.

A few months earlier, my family decided to go out for Christmas dinner.