OMGabe

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

Archive for the tag “Cancer”

GOD IS GOOD?

Is God good?

Well, I found a blue, LIVESTRONG type bracelet saying GOD IS GOOD lying lost, or maybe flung to the floor, of a handicapped parking space.

This sums up, and maybe for some, even answers the question.

Maybe God isn’t good. Or isn’t bad.

Maybe, God just is.

Or then again, isn’t.

Who’s to know?

-gb

www.WinTheWarWithYourMind.com

20170807-225330.jpg

Advertisements

Happy Father’s Day

Live Like A Fruit Fly 

What’s Your Blood Type?

“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.”

– Charles Bukowski

Today is my dad’s birthday. I miss him. Right down to the bone marrow, I miss him.

And sometimes I don’t even want to live anymore either.

But not because I miss him so much. That would just be weak.

Rather because, the lifeblood flowing through our society’s veins is commerce when it should be kindness. And sometimes that heaviness is just too much for me to bear.

Especially since we all share the same destiny.

But here I shall stay because, well, there’s much work to be done.

And by “work” I mean: sensing beauty when I can and more importantly, adding beauty when I can.

Maybe you will consider the same.

love/thanks,
– gb

win the war with your mind

20170614-185713.jpg

Download Life’s New Update

The crazy thing is, my mom wouldn’t have had the good time she had today if my dad didn’t die from brain cancer a few years ago.

How’s that for an opening sentence?

Got your attention now, don’t I, you squirrelly bastards…

Anyway…

I just got off the phone with my mom. She played golf somewhere on Long Island today.

She played awfully, since she’s a rookie, but had a lovely day laughing with the ladies she recently met at the gym.

It’s crazy because there’s no way in hell, or even in heaven, today would have unfolded the way it did for my mom if my dad was still around.

They would have been at the beach. Or taking a drive somewhere. Or just sitting around the house together.

And I’m certainly not saying she’s happier to have the opportunity to play with friends and go on little adventures by herself. Neither of us are.

We’re both just relieved that she’s recovered.

Re-blossomed.

Smiling again.

Ahhhh to get chocked up in Starbucks while I write to you, dear reader. Something I’ve grown accustomed to.

So, I said supportively to my mom, “That’s so great that you had fun today.”

To which she said, “Well, I’m making it happen. I’m taking control.”

My God I love when marionettes say this. It’s just about my fav. But that’s a discussion for another time.

For now, “my” strings are being pulled to have this come from these keystrokes: I hate how hard it is to just exist sometimes. Hate. None of us asked to be here. But with that, my love for love
is infinitely more powerful. And I didn’t ask for that either, but I’m so goddamn grateful my cells and soul are arranged this way. And I’ve got more than enough to share with you. So please, in this moment, take a breath with me.

In exchange, all I ask from you is this – the next time you have a choice between kindness and selfishness, please choose kindness.

Because kindness is selflessness.

And selflessness is the operating system of this universe.

Like it or not.

– gabe

Win The War With Your Mind

20170531-193651.jpg

Live Like A Fruit Fly Epilogue

There’s a young kid on a boat sailing over from Russia.

That kid ends up being my grandfather.

My dad’s dad.

And I sometimes imagine him knowing, right there on that voyage, that his son would inevitably die, awfully, from brain cancer.

And from there I think about what the dead would tell us. If they could talk. Knowing what they know now.

They’d probably say something like, “Lighten the fuck up.”

Continuing with, “Try not to get tangled in situations which make your heart heavy. And don’t try to keep up with the Joneses. They have their own problems you’re just not aware of. And, with that, they’re assholes anyway. Listen up living people, your only responsibility while alive, is to truly live. Because it all ends so fast. Please, for us, truly live. Thank you.”

Easier than it sounds?

Maybe.

Or maybe we need a good old fashioned global intervention of reprioritizing.

Maybe this blog post was written just for you.

– gb

www.LiveLikeAFruitFly.com

20170417-155904.jpg

No Weep Till Brooklyn

I didn’t think I was going to be fine.

But then I knew I was going to be fine when I walked in.

And thankfully I was fine.

Until I wasn’t.

So, I left.

My mom, her boyfriend (which is still so bizarre to say), my dad’s best friend and his wife met for dinner at a Japanese restaurant. I knew they were going to be there so I stopped in to say a quick hello to my dad’s best friend, Davie, because I haven’t seen him since the funeral.

My dad’s funeral (which is still so biblically bizarre to say).

After pretending to be their waiter, I exchanged handshakes with the men and kisses on cheeks with the women.

We chatted innocuously for a bit before Davie said to me, “He’s the Harold I knew growing up. He looks exactly like him as a kid.”

He was referring to a photo my mom showed him of one of her grandsons (my nephew).

Harold is/was my dad’s name. And hearing his best friend since second grade say it, an atomic chain reaction of emotion spread through my soul like a neutron bomb.

I felt my dad behind Davie’s eyes

Hence, I had to get the fuck out of there before I started crying. There was no reason to add heaviness to their lighthearted dinner.

I reached over the table and kissed him on the cheek. He put his hand lovingly behind my head, as my dad would have, and kissed my cheek in return.

I never cried, even once I made outside to the safety of the parking lot, but I’m on the verge right now as I write this

Such is life. Such is death.

(Wait, does this piece just end curtly right here? With no tie-up or catharsis? C’mon man, what else would you like me to say? Of course I could easily say that you should make sure to love your loved ones while you still can. But that, like everything else, will either happen or it won’t. And with that, all I want you to know are these three things: 1. I appreciate you taking the time to read these words. Truly appreciate it. 2. I love you, whoever the hell you are. For real.
3. The reality we think is real, isn’t. So, take everything with a grain of salt. But you’ll only do that if you’re caused to. Noodle baked yet? It doesn’t matter. Just know that I love you. Yes, you, you dumb bastard. The person reading these words right now).

www.WinTheWarWithYourMind.com

20170403-003637.jpg

The Little Things Are Huge (that’s what she…)


My dad would be so proud of me right now.

Am I getting married? Nope.

Have I become a success? Nope.

Did I stick up for someone who was being taken advantage of? Nope. Not yet today.

I’m just getting the five thousand mile check up on my car.

He loved this shit.

I’d call him and say, “Hey, I’m just sitting here getting my oil changed.”

And he’d say whatever he’d say and I’d hear him smiling on the other end of the phone.

These are the little things you miss when you lose someone.

Things you thought meant nothing at the time.

Now they mean everything.

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.

love/thanks,
gb

P.S That’s “Munchkin” with me in the photo. We’re chillin together at the Toyota dealer. His mom is some double cane using, decrepit old lady. She’s wearing a Cosby sweater. I feel for her. Right now she’s reading the newspaper. Talking out loud about Trump and Clinton. Trying to get me to take the bait. I won’t. She just said, “We should get Roosevelt back.” Roosevelt turned Jews away during the war who were fleeing Hitler. And now I hear my dad saying, “There’s three sides to every story. Your side, my side and the truth.”

Live Like A Fruit Fly

20161004-143457.jpg

So many caring people. It’s the reason for suffering. To give others the opportunity to care.

“So many caring people. It’s the reason for suffering. To give others the opportunity to care.”

Normally, I would have ended a post with a line like that, but this one is just too damn significant and too damn beautiful for anything less than top billing.

And now, with that, I don’t even feel like explaining it’s origin anymore.

So, I won’t.

I’ll just say it again, and pray that it marinates in the minds of those who may see this.

Truth or not, it’s a lovely perspective on this often unfortunate life of ours.

“So many caring people. It’s the reason for suffering. To give others the opportunity to care.”

love/thanks,
gabe

explanation – please, please click and give if/what you can:
https://www.gofundme.com/alifeboat4eric

20160808-224805.jpg

“Mr. Nobody”

“I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid I haven’t been alive enough.”

I sat on the edge of my bed – totally petrified.

Not frightened, but silent and still, like stone. Mesmerized by that quote above.

I heard it at the end of a movie trailer I was watching on my phone just a moment before.

“I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid I haven’t been alive enough.”

Those words landed in the center of the center of the bullseye so they didn’t even need to be thought about.

They just hung in the air in front of me like conspicuous Himalayan prayer flags.

But they evaporated in an instant when my eyes caught an unexpected sight in their periphery.

It was like a glitch in the Matrix.

A World War II bayonet rested beside my bed.

I felt neurons rushing to make their calculations.

Ah, yes.

My mom and sister were going through boxes of old stuff today and one of them must have left it there for me.

It was my dad’s.

He inherited from his dad who guarded Nazi prisoners with it.

They’re both dead now.

And now it’s mine.

I can’t speak for my grandfather (Abraham Berman) but when my dad (Harold Berman) got sick, he told me that he lived long enough and all he cared about at that point was his family not having to see him suffer.

How brave and beautiful and selfless.

It didn’t even occur to him to worry about suffering. His first thought, as always, was about my mom and my sister and me.

But he didn’t get his wish.

I was imprinted with his suffering. Tattooed permanently by it.

And at this point, I’m not afraid of dying either. I just hope that I (Gabriel Berman) will be alive enough to truly live.

And I hope the same for you.

with love and gratitude,
gb

If you haven’t read this yet, it’s time:
Live Like A Fruit Fly

20160718-014309.jpg

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

Post Navigation