The cookie jar sits empty now. Elena C. Messina left the kitchen quietly on Dec. 26, at the age of 89.

There are women who cook, and then there are women who cook. Elena was the latter. Her meals weren’t just food; they were invitations — to sit, to talk, to stay a little longer and to feel completely, unconditionally loved.

She hailed from East Boston, a place where being tough was non-negotiable and being kind was a secret superpower. She married Diego, a man who could turn a pair of scissors into a magic wand. Their 64-year marriage was part romance and part sitcom. And for her, it was exactly right.

Elena raised three boys who somehow managed to exceed her expectations — though if you asked her directly, she’d probably just smile warmly and hand you a plate of cookies. Success meant less to her than the way they gathered around her table, bringing their own children — who learned that love had a taste, and it was whatever Nonna was cooking.

She never understood why people found it remarkable, her coaching Little League in 1970. She just saw children who needed her, including her own three wild boys, and stepped up. Through her quiet example, she taught perhaps her most important lesson: that helping your children isn’t remarkable, it’s simply what a good mom does. and she was a good mom.

Her grandchildren adored her, mostly because she knew the answer to life’s most important question: “Nonna, is there anything to eat?” She knew it was code for “Do you still love me?” And the answer was always “yes.”

When her golf swing let her down, her laugh picked her up, rolling across the greens of Farm Neck — a laugh she carried into her kitchen, where she taught her daughter-in-law that love wasn’t in a casserole dish but in the slow, deliberate act of cooking from scratch.

Time eventually did what time does. It slowed her down. But then came Helen, Linda and Carol — the cavalry of care, who matched her kindness with their compassion, her strength with their devotion.

Elena’s kitchen may now be still, but her recipes remain. When we stir the sauce, she will be with us. Next time you’re seated at a table, a plate of chicken cutlets in front of you, crisped to perfection, remember: Elena is there too, laughing softly, reminding you that love is best served family-style.

In lieu of flowers, a donation made to New England Hemophilia Association 347 Washington Street, Suite 401 Dedham, MA 02026 in Elena’s memory would be appreciated.