OMGabe

by Gabe Berman – the author of Live Like a Fruit Fly

Archive for the month “November, 2018”

Messenger Meets Messenger

This is Abraham.  

He works at the gas station I pulled into last night at around 10 pm.  

He was changing the garbage at the pump and when I asked him how he was doing, he turned to face me and I saw fire in his eyes.  Like the fire from the burning bush atop of Mount Sinai.  

He told me to have faith in god.  To work.  To not worry about what was happening around me. 

And he smiled when I told him my name is Gabe. 

“Ahh Gabriel,” he said pointing up to the heavens. “You’re the one god chose to tell all of them.”


But the truth is dear reader, one way or another, we’re all messengers.  

love/thanks, 
gb

P.S. he also loved when I told him my grandfather’s name is/was Abraham.

Where Is God When Our Loved Ones Get Sick?

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Here’s Looking At You Kid

For a split second today, I saw my father’s face.

I saw it in my own reflection in the car window.

My hair is a bit shorter than it usually is and on a whim this morning, I trimmed up my face. Which lead us, by coincidence or cosmic coordination, to seeing eye to eye together for the first time in a long time.

I wonder, if they do look down at us from up there, if he’d be proud of me or utterly disappointed.

If kindness counted, which I hope it does, then I’d be in good shape.

– gb

Love Looks Like This

Berman & Garfunkel

The universe seems to have a mind of its own. 

 

And it’s own, incalculably unpredictable agenda.  Even with small things which may seem meaningless at first. 

 

Innocuously, an old Clapton song made a deep footprint in my mind as I was getting in the car earlier this morning.  I searched for it on Spotify but I must have “mistyped” because a Paul Simon album I haven’t heard in at least ten years popped up. 

 

So I played it on the way to Starbucks.

 

And I was crying in seconds.  

 

My dad loved this album and always smiled when I surprised him with it at home or in the car. But I didn’t reflect on this with words.  I felt him. I saw him so clearly. Driving. Fingers tapping on the steering wheel. Singing along.  Graying hair, like mine now. And if it was the summer, I’d turn his heated seat on when he wasn’t looking.  

 

So what does this all mean? 

 

Was it divine serendipity or blind coincidence coming out of chaos? 

 

In this moment, I couldn’t care less. 

 

I’m just so grateful for a such a strong memory of him happy and healthy. And I’m so grateful it’s lingering with me as I sit here with an iced coffee while writing to you.  

 

And with that, maybe we can all go a bit easier on our loved ones today.  Yep, they can stress us out at times, but trust me when I tell you that it all ends. And all we’ll have left, when they’re made available to us, are our memories.  

 

Thank you for taking the time to read this.  Without you, my words would have no purpose.  So, thank you.  

 

– gb

 

“Calling old friends on the corners, just to lay our prayers upon them.” – Paul Simon

 

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