Loving My Father: A Remarkable Life

Loving

My

Father

Written by

Charisse Feliberti

In loving Memory

of

Dr. Manuel Feliberti

May 2, 1917 – October 19, 1985

Dedication

I dedicate this book, with my deepest love and affection, to my children, Shawn Marie, Ivan Raul, Wesley James, Ashley Charisse, and Christie Ann.

I would like to add my grandchildren, Amaya, Gabriel, and Kinsey.

They are the ones that have given me the love, strength, and inspiration to write. They are the continuation and future of the circle of life that my father begun.

I write this book with hopes that they will learn the beauty of he, who started it all. They did not have the opportunity to enjoy his life. However, the words contained herein, should fulfill their curiosity in regards to the man I called my father.

Introduction

I lost my father in 1985. He was 68 and I was 23 years old. The years we shared, developed a love that endured way beyond his death. The years we shared taught me lessons that I have carried with me and applied through time. The years we shared provided a foundation for a life filled with love, guidance, belief in God, and a reason to pay forward the encouragement that he provided. My father was one man with one story. A story that once told, will influence, inspire, and teach that love is powerful, everlasting, and unconditional. 

I decided to write the story of the experiences, events, and remarkable life that he had. I understand this is a personal account, but it includes a story that is filled with courage, love, faith, family, culture, dedication, personal growth, responsibility, values, and life.

As I looked back at the years we shared together, I realized there is a message in his story that needs to be heard. It needs to be told. It needs to be put into words. Dad was an inspiration in my life. He taught me right from wrong. He taught me to be myself. He taught me to not conform to the world. He taught me to have my own voice. But most of all, he taught me about love, the kind that is unconditional, the kind that is everlasting.

Through the years, I learned what is like to have someone by my side that strengthened me from within, that believed in me, and stood by me no matter what. When all failed, he taught me to believe. It is to him who I owe my love for God, and my belief in an eternal life.

For the reader, this story will provide inspiration, belief, and the understanding of the power of unconditional love. This story will take you through an adventure of a life that was beautiful, giving, caring, and understanding. There are culturally rich travels and lessons learned along the way. There are family experiences that you will cherish and relate to.

As a reader, when you are finished reading this book, you will be inspired by a life that I had the privilege to call my father’s life; a life lived by faith, a live that inspired hope, a life that exemplified the meaning of unconditional love.

Copyright   2014 by Charisse Feliberti

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the pubhisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review

ISBN 978-1-312-43015-0

Chapter 1

Dad, Mom, Family

I am sitting in my home office staring at a picture of my dad when he was exactly the age I am today, 50 years old.

Manuel (papi) & Norma (mami) – Europe 1967

The picture was taken in 1967. He looked so happy, young, and full of life. The smile he portrays is the same smile I remember. He always smiled with his lips together, wrinkles around his eyes, and a kind of dimple in his cheek. He is standing by mom’s side. Mom is carrying my baby sister, Camille, in her tummy. She bears a soft smile, too. There are two pigeons eating from their hands and many more surrounding them. In the background is a bronze statue of a lion and a beautiful building somewhere in Europe. The lion statue reminded me of dad, strong, brave, and a king of kings. Their attires are proper of the time, dad’s suit is dark, and mom’s coat is light. They were opposites, they were different, but they complemented each other, like the sun and the moon. They were meant for each other. They were in love, a love that lasted, a love that was unbreakable. I looked at them and realized how happy and young both looked.

Before I realized it, a rush of beautiful memories flooded my mind. Oh! Life has gone by so fast. It seems like yesterday I was a happy young child seating along dad’s side. I was born the seventh of eight children on September 1962. The age spread of siblings was from my birth up to 22 years old. Yes! There was a huge gap. When I was born, dad was already 45 years old. Just a few years later, grandchildren were born. Therefore, I grew up with my nieces and nephews, at least for a short while. At the time of my birth, life was still peaceful and family was number one.

From left to right – Titi Cecilia, Norma (mom), Titi Chelo, Grandma Tomasa (middle in Wheelchair), Titi Pura, Tio Woodrow and Tio Lancy. - 1971

Dad and mom came from a family of eight siblings, each. I remember the family events. There were always so many people, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, grandpa, friends, and neighbors. I was thought to be the last of the first generation of cousins on dad’s side of the family. I believe my oldest cousin at the time was at least 30 years older than me. The family celebrated my baptism and the end of a generation, for three days. It was quite a party.

All of my father’s side of the family attended. There were all the uncles and aunts, all the cousins, and us. All stayed at my godfather’s house for the full three days. There are family stories relating to those days. There were so many, that some slept in beds, others in couches, others by putting chairs together, others on the floor, and the rest wherever they could lay their head. It did not matter to them. They were together, they were enjoying themselves, and they were celebrating.

However, as I mentioned earlier, mom did have one more child five years after my birth. She had a beautiful baby girl. She was a surprise, but the kind that is good. I was so happy to be a big sister. I would finally have someone to share my things with. What I did not know was that this event would change my relationship with mom, and dad and I would develop a closer relationship. Up to this point, wherever mom went, there I was. Mom would watch TV with me, she would play with me, and would take me to the school she taught at, so that I could spend the day with her in her classroom. I was her tail. I followed her around the house no matter where she went.

Norma (mom) & Charisse (me) - 1963

Mom looked for ways to keep me entertained. She would clean the porch and let me play with the soapy water. In the afternoons, she would take me to Don Bauzo’s home store to pick out candy and a drink. He lived a few houses down from us. I looked forward to that special treat, each day. I looked up to mom. I admired her and loved spending time with her.

Chapter 2

Dad Takes Notice

All changed once my baby sister was born. Mom was busy with the new baby. Although not on purpose, I was not given the same attention as before. I wanted mom’s attention. It was difficult to understand why she spent so much time with Camille. Camille kept her busy. Mom was not doing anything out of the ordinary. New babies require constant attention.

Dad realized I was sad. He understood that I was missing the special times with mom. The distance between mom and I grew farther away, nevertheless, dad and I grew closer. At night, I could not fall asleep easily. Dad would lie in bed next to me. He would read a book while he waited for me to fall asleep. He loved to read books, specially the ‘Agatha Christie’ mystery series. At one point, he owned the whole collection.

Dad was a medical doctor. His specialty was Epidemiology, but he served as a family doctor. He had an office at home. The office included a room for his desk, the examining room, and the X-Ray room. The X-ray machine in the room reminded me of a giant mechanical monster. I use to pretend that it was the leader of an alien invasion. This was awesome.

In the years that followed, I saw patients come in and out. Many brought him baskets of eggs, chickens, or homemade casseroles in lieu of payment. He took care of them even if they could not pay with money. He, also, made home visits. He started taking me along. I met some very nice people during the visits. I always stayed in the living room while he attended the sick in their bedrooms.

He always carried the black doctor’s bag. In it there was a stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, and other instruments. I remember the two, because I played with them. He would let me listen to my heart. I thought that was the coolest thing in the world. He would put the blood pressure cuff on my arm and blow it up so I could have fun and see how it worked. I thought the black bag was filled with magic and interesting gadgets. Whenever I watch classical movies and the doctor carries a black bag, my memory drifts to these days. Those were good days.

On Saturdays, he worked at a local hospital. He saw patients there, too, some in their rooms, others in the office. The office was located on the first floor of the hospital. There he saw patients by appointment. At the time, I was enrolled in Saturday ballet classes. The classes where short compared to his work hours, so he would take me to class on his way to the hospital. A couple of hours later, he would pick me up, I would spend the rest of his working hours at the office with him.

The nurses and the patients did not seem to mind that I was there. Actually, all of them treated me very nicely.