A Tribute to Rose Contraguerro

I first met Rose Contraguerro nearly forty years ago when her daughter Mary Ann Ennis became a second Mother to my children. From the moment I met her, Rose became MeeMaw to me…the name she was called by her grandchildren. Rose was a Mother to eleven children. Her husband died young. Saying she didn’t have it easy would be an understatement. Even back when I first met her she had a good start on setting a world record for having the most grandchildren. Little did I know that some day one of her grandchildren would become my daughter-in-law. I was drawn to her. She made me feel like I belonged, that I was a part of her family from the minute I met her. Her needs were simple. She wanted to be surrounded by her family; she wanted to love and to be loved. For many years, her home was ground zero for holiday events. She cooked and decorated and hoped every last one of her family showed up to share the holiday. After she became “chair-bound,” she still wanted everyone to show up, even if she wasn’t the one doing the cooking. She never seemed to be short on patience, there was always a smile on her face and she showed a real interest in each person who crossed her path. She taught several generations of Contraguerro girls how to be a lady and several generations of Contraguerro boys how to treat a lady. Her legacy stretches from one end of Wheeling to the other and beyond our state’s boundaries.

As Rose aged into her nineties, she became less and less able to move around. I watched her nine surviving children take shifts to make sure she was never alone. When she was hospitalized for the last eleven months, I knew that several of her children were there each day. I knew that for some it meant driving to Washington, Pa. everyday after a long and exhausting day at work. I knew that many patients linger in a nursing home for years without a single visit from a child. What had Rose done to merit this kind of love and devotion? She had little to give of material goods. There was no big inheritance waiting. What Rose had done was to deposit love, great sums of it, in the bank that was each of her children. When she needed it, it was right there waiting where she had deposited it… in the banks that were her children. At a time when she couldn’t speak, couldn’t hug, couldn’t give anything at all, the love she had given to each of them was given back to her. Isn’t that what being a Mother is all about… giving until it hurts, giving until there’s nothing left to give? And when a Mother does it right, her children learn that being a son or a daughter means giving until it hurts, giving until there’s nothing left to give. Rose did it right. She did it best. Having known her was a joy and an honor. Having known her has made all of us better people. She will be remembered. She will be missed. She was loved.

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