OMGabe

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

Archive for the tag “son”

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

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Fuck Pride

It took three tries and two long pauses between those tries to get the goddamn sentence out of my mouth.

“Remember the music from that movie daddy…”

“Remember the music from that movie daddy would…”

“Remember the music from that movie daddy would…always whistle. Once Upon A Time In America with Noodles? With De Niro playing Noodles?”

My mom checked back into the old files in her mind and within a second, smiled in acknowledgment.

And after I almost cried three times, I smiled too.

It was a nice moment for us to share.

We watched Tarantino’s latest flick together tonight. The Hateful Eight. Ennio Morricone composed the music for it. And for the Once Upon. My dad would randomly whistle a song from that score while reading the New York Times. And then he’d look up from the paper and say to me, “Hey, Noodles!”

I wonder when I’ll stop being eviscerated by these memories.

Hopefully never.

love/thanks,
gb

My new book – Love Looks Like This

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June 14 2014

As of twenty-three minutes ago, my dad would have been seventy-two years old.

If he was still around, I’d probably open my eyes widely in his direction and instigate a bit with, “Seventy-two, huh?”

But per usual, he wouldn’t take the bait. He’d just smile and shake his head at me.

“It’s better than the alternative,” was his famous line when people complained about getting older on their birthdays.

A few nights ago, I watched up to the part when Michael confronts Apollonia’s father in GF1 (the original Godfather). Alone in the dark, I cried until I was out of tears.

Like most father and son teams, this was our movie. If we found it on TV while clicking through the channels, control of the remote control would be relinquished and it would remain untouched until the closing credits.

And now here I sit at the kitchen table, in his seat, listening to his favorite song Take Five by Dave Brubeck, in efforts to somehow…I don’t know…invoke the spirits maybe to give me a meaningful message.

But the truth is, the spirits revealed their message before I even knew to ask them to tonight.

While mindlessly making a cup of tea before starting to write, I noticed these words printed on the tab of the teabag: The purpose of life is to enjoy every moment.

The purpose
of life
is to enjoy
every moment.

I think I can feel my dad agreeing from the other side.

With that said, remember to be loving to your loved ones. Even if they make it really hard for you to do so.

They sometimes leave you faster than you’d ever imagine.

Happy Birthday Dad.

I love you and miss you immeasurably.

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