The tribute I read at my grandmother's funeral mass on Monday

A Tribute to Donata Rosas

My name is Joseph Rodriguez. I am the first-born grandchild of Donata Rosas.

But I didn’t know her first name was Donata until this week,

So I googled Donata & found it comes from Italian: meaning donate or given. But my favorite meaning is “a gift from God.” And she was exactly that, “a gift from God.”

That’s a good description for this beautiful, proud, hard working, ambitious, and caring woman

For over 50 years, my grandmother showered me with her love: spoiling me with Hot Wheels, and her attention; pressing my 5-year-old body close and tight, after my sister passed away; taking me to the Jersey Shore to see the ocean for the first time; comforting me the time I got sick in grandpa’s car, on the curvy roads of West Virginia; accepting whoever I dated or loved; and encouraging me to aim high, but to enjoy life, too. Just like she did.

Yep, my grandmother liked to have fun and enjoyed a touch of glamor, too: Whether it was waving at Henry Kissinger when we spotted him lunching at the World Trade Center, or dancing with grandpa at Uncle John’s wedding, or cross-examining me after I attended a White House dinner, representing my company. Yes, she wanted to know about everyone I had seen, including details about John-John Kennedy and his wife Carolyn.

You see, Grandma’s curiosity and joy set a good example for us all.

She also set an example with her ability to handle hard work with grace. She worked full-time at Western Electric, BUT also managed to raise her family, dress them impeccably, and keep a beautiful home and yard. Anyone who visited her felt welcome and would be well fed, her hospitality was well known.

She did all of this while looking like a million bucks, with her hair done and wearing stylish outfits, even into her late 70s. Grandma had flair! 

She also had a Spanish-sense of loyalty, especially to those people she loved. I will always remember this story from the summer of 1985. I had just finished grad school and my brother was in college.  We were visiting my grandparents because Frank was flying out of Newark, to attend a work-study program in London.  

On the day of Frank’s departure, Grandpa was at work and the three of us were about to leave for the airport when we got a call from my friend in London, “where is Frank, he said.” 

Poor Frank had mixed up with his arrival date with the departure date, given this was his first overseas trip (which spans two days). 

As a result, he lost the value of his non-refundable, one-way ticket. My then-19-year-old brother was distraught, not wanting to go on to London. But grandma knew that working in London was tremendous opportunity for her grandson and she was not going to let it pass so easily: calmly, she helped us book and pay for another ticket. 

Then she said, “what is done is done and there is no reason to tell anyone, including your parents or grandpa, it will upset them. This is going to be our little secret.” And so it was. She seemed to enjoy having this blood-loyalty pact with us, being one of the boys. As years went by, when we visited, she would whisper to me that Frank’s secret was still safe with her. This made me love grandma all the more. 

However, I can’t end my remarks about grandma without mentioning her cooking. She had a way with scalloped potatoes, London Broil, and chicken and rice.   But her signature dish, as we all know, was her empanada! 

It was simply delicious -- and a favorite food of mine. She made it in a deep rectangular pan, with a pastry top and crust, meat on the inside, and kissed it with little pastry O’s and X’s as decorations, which were always fun to eat as a child. 

Her empanada would take hours to prepare, but she never complained to me about this.  Every time I visited my grandparents, I would leave 166 Virginia Street with a full stomach, a package of leftover empanada, and a smile on my face as grandpa and grandma waved goodbye from their front porch.  

After one visit, back at college, my roommate and I were wolfing down grandma’s empanada, when he asked me what made it taste so good?  Having been raised on grandma’s Spanish and Portuguese cooking, I had not thought about this before, so it took me a moment to respond.  

Then in a flash of understanding & appreciation it came clear to me: “My grandmother uses three special ingredients”, I said

-       The best Spanish chorizo from Jersey City

-       Hours of hard work

-       Lots of unconditional love

She loved to take care of us, feed us, and share her stories and lessons and laughter with us.  She worried about us, and celebrated us. She loved us with all of her being.

You see, my grandmother, Donata Rosas, was a gift  from God!