About chad

Chadderbox is the nickname my sister Sami coined for Chad that simply stuck. He was my oldest sister Dani’s boyfriend and first love in high school. As the annoying middle school sister (with a crush of my own on him), I probably should have been written off, but Chad chose to treat me like I was his little sister instead. He grew close to my entire family in the years he was with my sister, so when they eventually broke up, I was devastated. Luckily, Chad was determined to maintain our friendship.

Chad called me often and we would talk for hours. I remember those phone conversations vividly - lying on the floor by my bed discussing how high school was going, pacing my purple room while talking about my crushes, gushing over lyrics in the songs we had sent each other that week, discussing where I was looking to play water polo in college, and being nicknamed BreSoftware after an old, sketchy computer store he went to in Fresno. Throughout our conversations, I was always trying to get a good grip on how he was really doing. He was always just a phone call away, always there for me. I wanted him to know I would be the same for him, and that I knew him, and I believed in him. I knew he was good.

We shared music so often that he started burning me mix CDs and dropping them off in the grass by my family’s front door. He called these hidden mixes his Doorstep Albums, and I was lucky enough to hear quite a few volumes. After I listened to a mix, I’d call and we’d pore over every song and call out the lyrics that resonated with us most at the time. It was therapeutic, and it was often how we really communicated. I could understand how Chad was truly doing by the music he carefully compiled in each mix. I’m grateful I was able to see him more clearly through this routine.

The day I got that last text from him, I was sitting in class, too scared to risk getting detention for checking my buzzing phone minutes before the lunch bell rang. As soon as it did, I checked my phone, saw Chad’s message, and called him immediately. It rang and went to voicemail 3 times. I knew something was wrong, so I called my mom and asked her to call the Halfway House he was staying in. She told me she would.

It was the next day when I was told he was gone. I remember collapsing in the same spot on the floor by my bed where I had talked to him for 3 hours the weekend before. He sounded so great, so hopeful. Looking back, I think he knew it was the last time he would talk to me. I am grateful he took the time to show me how much he loved me before he left. I will never take that for granted.

Every year since April 2011 has been hard without Chad. I miss him so much every day. I miss feeling seen and heard the way he made me feel seen and heard. I miss the way he listened - no one else listens like he did. I miss the love of someone who loved me the way he did. He’ll never understand how much he meant to me.

When I’m experiencing an extreme low and feel immensely alone, I miss him the most. I wish I could call Chad and talk about our lives, what we’re listening to, what we’re looking forward to, how we’re grateful we kept in touch. I think about how he was someone in my corner, someone who helped me realize the best parts of me. And I was in his, doing the same.

So often in the last 10 years without him, I’ve found myself thinking, “Chad would love this song,” or, “He would tell me I deserve better.” In all this time, I never tried writing him. He won’t see it, why would it matter?

It matters because if he were here, he would read it. He would listen. He would pore over every word to understand how I’m really doing. He would care.

And that’s something I’ve had a hard time trusting the last few years - that I am worthy of that level of care.

So, until I see it in myself, I’m going to write to the one who saw it in me.

I’m going to talk about my life and work through the lows the way we would on the phone. I’m going to share the good news and the bad. I’ll share Doorstep Album mixes of my own with music from the last 10 years that I think Chad would have loved. I’ll also revisit some gems he showed my brother and me growing up that we know by heart. I’ll talk to others about songs they’d want to show the loved ones they’ve lost, and we’ll share the impact of their endless influence.

Hey Chadderbox,

Thank you for listening. I’ve missed you so much, and I have so much to share.

Love you like a brother,

BreSoftware