OMGabe

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

Archive for the category “life”

Can We Handle The Truth?

In thirty-nine minutes, it’s my dad’s birthday.

Harold Berman.

He would have been seventy-four.

If he hadn’t gotten sick, I’d probably be in Florida right now. And I’d call him tomorrow, like nine hundred times, to wish him happy birthday.

But I flew back to New York the day he was diagnosed. And here I remain. For now.

I still hear him in the back of my head. As clear as ever. Behind my ears. As I always have.

Not in words exactly, but in silent feelings. I can feel his feelings. And they guide me through decisions and situations. Although, obviously and unfortunately, I can’t call him after the fact anymore.

And I hate that.

Hate.

When I was young my dad told me I shouldn’t use the word “hate” because it’s too strong of a word.

Well dad, I really mean it this time.

More so than I ever.

Because all I can do is sit here, listening to Brubeck – your favorite, while writing to a few good people who are now reading these words.

So what would you like me to pass on to them?

You’d often say there are three sides to every story – my side, your side and the right side. The truth.

So, what’s the truth here?

It feels like, behind my ear, the truth is that only love is real.

But maybe that’s good-ol-fashion bullshit.

Because the fear, and greed, and evil in this world, sure as hell seems just as real.

Wait.

Ahh, I got it.

I can hear you more clearly now dad.

Love might not be the only thing that’s real, but it’s certainly the only thing that matters.

And I love you.

Beyond.

And miss you.

Excruciatingly so.

And I love you too, dear readers, for being here with me in this moment.

I’m truly grateful for you – and that’s the truth as well,
gb

Happy Birthday Dad.

20160614-001224.jpg

Advertisements

…to get to the other side

I saw a frog in the street as I was getting in the car to drive my nephews to their little league game.

He stayed motionless for a moment, but then hopped a pathetic hop.

His back left leg looked a little mangled and it dragged on the asphalt as he attempted to move forward.

It broke my heart.

It broke my heart and I’ve been thinking about that little guy all day.

I wish I could have taken away his suffering.

I wish I could take away all suffering.

But penguins continue to freeze their little asses off, tigers eat baby dear, frogs hurt their legs on the backstreets of Long Island and sons lose their dads to brain cancer.

For now, this is how the universe is unfolding. And all we can do in its wake is alleviate suffering when we can, do our damndest not to add to suffering, and follow our passions profusely.

“In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

20140510-225606.jpg

Ego & Entanglements


“I saved all of my dad’s cummerbunds.”

That’s the best first sentence ever. Right?

It’ so visual, I just love it. I automatically see an older, heavyset guy at a bar-mitzvah. Hovering over a tray of appetizers.

My friend said it to me a few days ago. When her dad died, she threw out all of his clothes but kept his cummerbunds. I guess they had the most memories woven metaphysically into their fabric.

I told her if she ever writes a book, “I saved all of my dad’s cummerbunds,” needs to be the first sentence. But, as a writer, I’m obligated to steal it. Finders keepers baby, finders keepers.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table as I type these words to you. My mom is standing next to me, texting on her iPhone while going on and on to me about her Zumba class and about the new kitchen cabinets in her condo on the beach in Florida.

And although I sometimes feel like ripping the phone out of her hands and whipping it through the window, I remember – she too will one day take her last breath.

Hopefully later than sooner.

So, I listen. And smile. And encourage her.

My dad and I had a phenomenally loving relationship, but we’d fight often.

Some of our entanglements were for good reason, but most weren’t.

—- a few minutes have passed since that last sentence —-

I was just about to say: if I knew I’d end up watching him suffer so badly from brain cancer for eleven months, I would have been infinitely more permeable to his ego and angry antics.

But that’s bullshit.

I would have been tyrannical. Ruthless. No one would dare to waste a second in my presence.

Nothing but unconditional love, laughter, forgiveness and appreciation would have been allowed.

Sounds unrealistic in this world of ours?

That’s why we continue to suffer.

In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

20140423-145002.jpg

When Cameron Was In Egypt Land…

Why was last night different than all other nights?

Because last night was the second night of Passover, and for the second night in a row, I drove my grandma home after our menagerie of matzoh.

That was my dad’s job.

And now it’s mine.

Earlier in the evening, everyone sat around the table – ate, laughed and pretended to be religious for fifteen minutes.

Including me.

However, I also felt like banging my fists on the table and screaming, “Holy fuck Batman, how are we all acting so normal?”

Maybe that’s what happens when you lose a loved one. Eventually, everything clicks back into place and you just roll with it. Even if it clicks a bit differently than it used to.

Your mom cooks for the family by herself, your brother-in-law hides the matzoh so the kids can scramble to find it, and you get into your dad’s car and drive your grandma back to her apartment in Long Beach.

Life goes on.

But with that said, I once again walked downstairs this morning, and literally felt my dad sitting at the kitchen table. Wearing his blue bathrobe, reading the Times, and eating lots of eggs and gross onions.

Everyone says in due time, things will feel normal again.

Normal?

That’s the last thing I want to feel.

Normalcy might tarnish my memories. And I need them to remain digitally clear.

Because they’re all I have left.

“In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiracle.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

20140417-031704.jpg

Be Ashamed To Die…

Your life, as well as countless others, just might hinge upon watching this video.

Please find three minutes and forty-four seconds when you can:  

“Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity.” – Horace Mann

The City Of Angels

Since I’m the nicest guy since sliced bread, I drove my friend John to the airport.

He jetted off to Los Angeles because his house was Hurricane Sandyized and it’s finally being fixed up.

I schlepped some of his stuff to my place so it would remain unscathed, and in the car to the airport, John turned to me and said, “Hey man, if by chance something happens when I’m out there and I don’t make it back, keep my things. I trust you to make good use of them.”

I blew that off with, “Whatever man, I’ll see you when you get back in two months.”

We were listening to my dad’s copy of Sgt. Pepper’s and Paul just sang: Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I’m sixty-four?

John said, “I was around seventeen when I first heard this album. Sixty-four sounded like light years away. Because man, it was. And now I’ll be sixty-four in three months.”

Looking like an older Jim Morrison and holding a guitar in one hand and his cat Minnie in the other, John walked through the doors of the Delta terminal after we hugged goodbye.

I know I’ll see him again and we’ll get back to talking business in Starbucks. You know: Rumi, writing, the reading of the tarot etc.

But the truth is, maybe he will meet his maker out there. Or maybe, I’ll meet mine here.

It happens to all of us eventually. And just like it is with meeting your one true love, it’s usually when you least expect it.

I remember watching a Louie C.K. special on TV in the middle of the night. My dad was sleeping and I was sitting next to his bed in the hospital.

Louie said something like, “You’re all laughing now, but at least some of you will be dead soon.”

Everyone laughed, but I’m sure some of the audience thought about it later that evening. Probably as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

This reminds me of a Charles Bukowski quote someone once emailed me, “We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.”

Thankfully, this doesn’t apply to John. And it’s applying less and less to me.

Anyone else like to join us?

Evolution is in our own hands…

In Live Like a Fruit Fly, Gabe Berman shares his recipe for living a more joyful, worthwhile, and abundant life in every way. A witty, entertaining, and insightful read.” — Deepak Chopra, Author, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Success

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

www.WhereIsGodWhenOurLovedOnesGetSick.com

www.WeightLossCoffeeMiralce.com

20140224-174214.jpg

Post Navigation