{"id":7511,"date":"2026-06-08T13:15:56","date_gmt":"2026-06-08T13:15:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/?p=7511"},"modified":"2026-06-08T13:15:56","modified_gmt":"2026-06-08T13:15:56","slug":"goian-bego-tia-rosario","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/2026\/06\/08\/goian-bego-tia-rosario\/","title":{"rendered":"Goian Bego Tia Rosario"},"content":{"rendered":"
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On Saturday, June 6, 2026, my dad’s sister Rosario Uberuaga Zabala died. She was on her balcony, tending her flowers, when she was struck by a heart attack. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I first met Rosario in 1991, when I went to live in the Basque Country. Like most of dad’s family, I never knew her growing up. I was only vaguely aware she even existed. I think I’ve said this before, but in those days travel and even phone calls were too expensive and dad simply didn’t interact with this family much. And when he did it was always in Basque and always him maximizing his time talking with them. But, when I went to the Basque Country, I got to know Rosario and the rest of dad’s family, and they became a big part of my adult life. Over the now many years since I first met her, Rosario became one of the center pieces of what the Basque Country is for me. <\/p>\n\n\n

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All her life, Rosario worked and worked hard. When I first knew her, her husband had just died only a year before. She was a young widow that now had two young kids and a bar to manage. Nestled in the hills just outside of Amorebieta, Autzagane – the small barrio where her bar was – became one of my haunts. Rosario was always bustling, whether behind the bar or in the kitchen. In the same breath, she would bark a commanding order that showed she was in charge but flash a brief smile that revealed the kind and playful side that was always beneath the surface. She wasn’t a tall woman but her presence filled the room, demanding attention from everyone. Not being able to speak much Spanish and even less Basque, I often just sat in the dining room, which was always full of patrons, watching the embers in the massive fireplace that seemed perpetually lit as they shifted colors and threw off sparks. Many of my hours in the Basque Country were filled with waiting as others simply did their jobs and lived their lives, but it helped me build patience and be comfortable with myself and my own interior headspace. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Some years later, Rosario retired and threw a massive party to celebrate closing the bar. There was a band and literally hundreds of people who came to honor and celebrate Rosario. Next to the bar, she had been able to build two chalets, a testament to her hard work and the success she had achieved. But, just because she had retired, she never stopped working. When her mom – my amuma – couldn’t live on her own at the family baserri, she went to live with Rosario. And so did Tio Joe, when he also needed extra help. Rosario was the rock of the family. She became the one who took in the elders of the family, and watched over them. And sometimes they acted more like children than adults. She had to act the mother for Tio Joe, who was climbing ladders and trimming shrubs at the age of 90 like he was 20 or 30 years younger. But she made him feel at home, where he could tend the chickens and rabbits and keep his hands dirty.<\/p>\n\n\n

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All those years of working on her feet, of being there for everyone else, certainly took their toll. She had her aches and pains, but she hid them, always putting others first. She was always thinking of everyone else. One trip, we stayed at her place which had these cold tiles decorating the main living space. Lisa was walking around with socks and got an earful that she would get sick because she didn’t have her slippers on. Socks were simply not enough. She was so concerned that Lisa would get sick that she kept badgering her until Lisa caved and wore some house slippers. As we sat in her dining room at the end of the day, she pulled out a simple treat – bread and chocolate – and opened a whole new world of dessert for us. That little treat was almost a mirror of Rosario – a simple, rough exterior that hid so much goodness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rosario always had this gruff demeanor but there was always a twinkle behind her eyes. She was always teasing me – always throwing broncas – particularly when my Spanish didn’t quite convey what I intended. But there was always that twinkle that betrayed the immense heart and kindness that lay behind her rough exterior. In many ways, she was a reflection of my dad – someone who had always worked hard to the detriment of their own health but who was always there for everyone else. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rosario was 77. My Basque Country will not be the same without her.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

On Saturday, June 6, 2026, my dad’s sister Rosario Uberuaga Zabala died. She was on her balcony, tending her flowers, when she was struck by a heart attack. I first met Rosario in 1991, when I went to live in the Basque Country. Like most of dad’s family, I never knew her growing up. I […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":7513,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[19,2696],"tags":[4089,4088],"class_list":["post-7511","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-people","category-remembering-dad","tag-autzagane","tag-rosario-uberuaga-zabala"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/Rosario-2.png","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2sYNu-1X9","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7511","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7511"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7511\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7517,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7511\/revisions\/7517"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/7513"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7511"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7511"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/buber.net\/Basque\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7511"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}