Courtesy of Carr Family
Let’s start with the puppy. That never fails, right?
This is about to be so hard to talk about, and will likely be the only time I do so publicly, so let’s start with the dog.
Back in 2014, when my little brother Chad was diagnosed with brain cancer, we made the decision as a family to get a puppy. Chad was only 3 when we got the news, and we knew things were going to get very tough for him. He needed a buddy. Me and my younger brother Tommy were around, but we had school, and we wanted Chad to get a true best friend who would always be there.
So we got this little mini-labradoodle.
100 Years of Love in 5 Years of Life
100 Years of Love in 5 Years of Life
Courtesy of Carr Family
We didn’t know what to name the new dog initially, but we basically just brought him home and plopped him down in the backyard. And, of course, he immediately takes off — just sprinting around in every direction, while we’re all laughing and running and waving our arms trying to get him inside.
You should’ve seen Chad’s face.
It’s this tiny puppy ping-ponging around the yard like a maniac, and all of us yelling for him to chill, but … not even knowing what name to yell since we hadn’t picked one out yet.
Somehow, we managed to herd him into the house. And he’s just standing there, in the middle of the carpet, surrounded. He’s panting. And looking at us like….
What now?
And then … he poops.
Yeah.
On cue. Right on the carpet. Looking us dead in the eyes.
Chad laughed so hard, man. Like head tilted all the way back, eyes closed, arms in the air, full-on belly laugh.
He was just so, so happy.
Growing up in a house with three young boys, there was a lot of potty humor, especially from Chad.
He loved anything having to do with poop. Or butts and farts. Or boogers. Just all that stuff. It all made him laugh so hard.
You know that old rap song, “I like big butts, and I cannot lie….”? Chad loved that song when he was little. Couldn’t get enough. He’d play it out all the time, and you’d look over and he’s singing and dancing around like a fool.
So yeah, I guess it shouldn’t have been a surprise that when Chad eventually picked a name for the puppy … I can only imagine he must have been thinking about farts and went with “Tootie.”
Tootie would always be by Chad’s side, indoors or out. And, thinking back now, it was almost like that dog knew that doing his business on our carpets was the one thing that brought his little buddy the most joy in life. Because he did it all … the … time.
Chad was always right there to relish in the moment, too. You’d be going about your day, and all of a sudden, you’d hear Chad cracking up and yelling from downstairs….
“Guys! Guys!! GUYS!!! Tootie pooped in the basement!!!!!!!!!!!”
And then it’d be my dad, wherever he was in the house, basically just fuming, like: “Are you kidding me? Again?!?! Tootie!!!!!!! Why did we get this freaking dog?!??!”
Chad would just laugh and laugh and laugh.
“Tootie, you’re crazy!!!!”
I was 10 years old when my little brother passed away.
Chad was five.
In a few days, it will be the 10-year anniversary. I have not really talked about how losing Chad has affected me, but after talking it over with some people, I decided this would be a great opportunity to highlight how awesome my little brother was.
There were some really tough moments during his cancer battle obviously, but I want to focus on Chad’s amazing personality, and what made my little brother such a special person. That’s why I decided to start this thing out with Tootie, instead of talking about how difficult it was to watch Chad go to appointment after appointment for an inoperable brain tumor and get poked by needles, or how, near the end, the entire left side of his body stopped functioning. Those things, I mean … they happened, and they are part of Chad’s story, but they are not the most important part.
Not even close.
So I want this to be about the things my brother did that made us all laugh so hard. About what he meant to me. What he taught me. And about the things that made him smile. The things that my brother loved.
And one of the things Chad loved more than anything was “Boys Night.”
Friday after school. Just me, Tommy, Chad, and our dad, down in the basement — our hangout spot. Mom wasn’t allowed in. It was just the guys. We’d order food and eat together, while moving the couches and gathering blankets for our pillow forts. Every so often, Dad would grab a Nerf football and we’d run little pass routes, and he’d throw it so we had to catch the ball while diving into this giant beanbag. Then we’d sit in those pillow forts and watch action movies that we were probably waaaaay too young to watch.
The actors would swear during the movie, and me and my brothers would look at one another and raise our eyebrows, but of course there was an understanding that we were not to repeat any of the bad words we heard in those movies. What happened at Boys Night, stayed at Boys Night.
We had so much fun — we wouldn’t go to bed until like two in the morning. We never wanted those Friday nights to end.
100 Years of Love in 5 Years of Life
100 Years of Love in 5 Years of Life
Courtesy of Carr Family
And Chad, he may have had more fun than any of us during those Boys Nights. My dad would surprise us with these weird, uncommon meals with lots of vegetables. It would gross me and Tommy out, but Chad would eat almost anything. I’ll never forget our dad randomly bringing us olive muffuletta. I’d never even heard of that. And when I saw it for the first time I honestly felt like I was going to throw up. Chad of course, as soon as he noticed how we reacted when he was eating it … olive muffuletta immediately became his favorite thing to eat. He’d be chewing it all slow, or throwing pieces of it at us, or pretending to feed it to us.
We’d scream and run away.
Chad absolutely thrived in those moments.
He loved to joke around with everyone, loved to laugh. And his laugh had this magical power to make everyone around him laugh, so … he worked it.
Chad wasn’t into sports like Tommy and me. He was a different cat. He wanted to search for bugs in the woods near our house, or catch fireflies with our grandma, or turn up the music real loud and dance his little dances to “Moves Like Jagger.”
He loved playing little pranks on all of us. He’d pick up some big beetle or a worm from under a rock and then chase me around with it just to make me scream.
Then, when we were inside on Saturday mornings watching college football, Chad was totally in his element. I come from a big Michigan football family. My grandpa on my dad’s side, Lloyd Carr, was a national champion head coach there, and my dad played QB there. My grandpa on my mom’s side, Tom Curtis, also played at Michigan. He was an All-American safety and is even in the College Football Hall of Fame. So, obviously we were all locked in watching Michigan. Everyone but Chad, that is. He absolutely loved to troll us and cheer for literally anyone BUT Michigan. He just loved getting under our skin.
Mind you, again … he’s 3 at that point.
But it was all about getting a rise out of us. He enjoyed that so much. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world.
In some ways it was almost like Chad crammed 100 years of personality and laughs and dance moves into five years of life.
100 Years of Love in 5 Years of Life
100 Years of Love in 5 Years of Life
Courtesy of Carr Family
To be honest with you, back then? When Chad first got diagnosed? I didn’t even fully grasp what was happening. I remember when we were at Mott Children’s Hospital and first got the news. The doctors had already told my parents, and they brought me and Tommy into a room and started telling us what was going on. But it just didn’t compute. There was a doctor there who was trying to get Tommy and me to do an activity where we would make little pillows for Chad or something. And it just wasn’t happening, you know what I mean? I was kind of just ignoring him because my mind was full-on trying to process things. I could see my parents’ faces, and knew it probably wasn’t good. But I definitely didn’t get the magnitude of it all.
In my head, I was like: Oh, I guess Chad’s sick right now. But he’ll be fine. And that's kind of how I saw it for the next year or so.
Even as my little brother got more and more sick, I still didn’t really process where things were going. It wasn’t until he passed away, about 14 months after being diagnosed, that everything became real.
My little brother was no longer there. All that personality and laughter was gone, and there was a huge void. I tried not to think about it. I tried to just play as many Little League games as I could, and hang out with my friends, and just … power through.
That approach doesn’t work forever, though.
There were a few times at school, maybe like fourth or fifth grade, when I just kind of broke down. Moments when everything came streaming out all at once. I remember this one time, some kid cut me in the lunch line and, like … no big deal, right? On a normal day, it would’ve been like, OK, whatever. But on that particular day, I just lost it and started crying. Without even knowing really why.
So I’m at the lunch table breaking down, and it’s very embarrassing in that moment. My emotions just take over. All the kids are looking at me like, “What’s going on?” And, I mean … even I didn’t really know.
But it’s pretty clear to me now.
I remember just always wanting to stay as strong as possible, and I saw my parents, and how strong they were being. So I wanted to be like that, too. I wanted to be strong for Tommy, and for the rest of our family.
You know what Chad would have loved?
You know what that kid would have appreciated more than anyone?
He would’ve loved me picking Notre Dame.
I never really gave it much thought at the time, but I do think that one big thing Chad taught us all was about doing the unexpected, and not being predictable, and trying new things. He always had the courage to not just go along with the plan. And while I wasn’t thinking about that when I chose Notre Dame — I just loved the school and the program — when you look at the totality of his life, he’s a good representation of not being afraid to go against the grain. So maybe he kind of took some of that light and put it into Tommy and me, to where we can do something different, or don’t have to always do what our parents or our parents’ parents did. Who knows, right? But maybe.
Regardless, Chad would crack up about me going to Notre Dame, for sure. Like: Don’t let anyone tell you what to do. Do what you want!
I can almost hear him laughing about it in my mind. And that makes me smile.
I think about him all the time, and at the end of the day, he is a huge source of inspiration for me. For him to go through that tough time, and all that pain, and still keep a smile on his face and keep that positive attitude? I can’t explain to you how much that drives me to push through any challenges that I might face. I mean, let’s be real, if Chad could go through chemo and, eventually, not being able to move his left arm and leg at all, and still be cracking jokes and keeping everyone’s spirits up … I can absolutely choose to do hard things. After watching him be so tough, my context of what is truly hard is very different.
100 Years of Love in 5 Years of Life
100 Years of Love in 5 Years of Life
Courtesy of Carr Family
I honestly can’t believe it’s been 10 years since we lost Chad.
I wish that he could be with me in the flesh on game days. I know he would be up in the stands, screaming his head off. (Hopefully dressed in Notre Dame gear!) But there’s no doubt in my mind that he actually is there with me in spirit. Watching over me. Cheering me on. Hoping I do something awesome … or at least something funny.
The reality is that, even though he’s in a different place, Chad continues to live on through everyone in my family. And, you know what else? He’s given all of us a gift. Maybe the greatest gift I’ve ever received in life.
It’s sad to think about it this way, but … I truly believe that whether it was his choice or not, Chad’s sacrifice really served to put everything in perspective for our family.
Before he got his diagnosis, our family … we were like your typical family, going through life in a whirlwind. My dad’s job at the time required him to travel a lot, my mom had a career of her own, and us boys were at school, hanging with friends, or running around to different places to play our sports.
Everything changed when we got the news about Chad. We spent all of our time together. My parents changed their jobs and were able to always be around. They created the ChadTough Defeat DIPG Foundation to honor my brother and help as many people as they could in Chad’s name.
All we wanted to do from that point forward was hang out together. And that feeling got even stronger after Chad passed away. To this day, we have remained extremely close.
With me and Tommy, especially, I just … I appreciate him so much. He knows me better than anyone. Going through what we went through as kids, we have a special bond. Soon he will be heading to college. He is going to be a QB, like me — and I can’t wait to be able to help him navigate everything.
Heck, even Tootie is still around. But he is getting up there in age. It’s been almost 12 years since that afternoon when he ran wild in the yard and pooped on the carpet. I’m not sure how much longer we’ve got with him. My mom … she’s in some denial about that right now. I feel for her. It’s going to be really tough when that day comes.
But we’re going to enjoy every moment we have with Tootie until then. In a way, he’s still like our constant reminder of Chad. Every time he comes into a room wagging his tail, I can still hear my little brother laughing….
And I’m just really hoping that, whenever the day comes and he passes on, Tootie will do one more favor for us.
Just to make Chad laugh one last time before joining his bud up in heaven.
One final poop on the rug back home to troll my dad!
I can still hear it clear as day….
“Guys! Guys!! GUYS!!! Tootie pooped in the basement!!!!!!!!!!!”
Love you, Chad!
–CJ