Care and Long Distance Connection

I grew up watching my parents’ unwavering devotion to my grandparents, especially as they aged. Their dedication became the gold standard for care in my mind. When Grandma Sarah was hospitalized at Lenox Hill for two months, my mother commuted daily from Long Island to New York City on the railroad. It’s no wonder I felt guilty going to Florida to celebrate New Year’s while my mother remained in rehab. I doubted that the caring was sufficient given the long distance. And so, I wonder: how will my children care for me if I am elderly and in ill health?

The Torah offers inspiration in its depiction of Joseph’s devotion to his father, Jacob. As Jacob’s health declined, Joseph rushed to his bedside, bringing his sons with him. Jacob embraced his grandsons and gave them a profound blessing:

הַמַּלְאָךְ֩ הַגֹּאֵ֨ל אֹתִ֜י מִכׇּל־רָ֗ע יְבָרֵךְ֮ אֶת־הַנְּעָרִים֒ וְיִקָּרֵ֤א בָהֶם֙ שְׁמִ֔י וְשֵׁ֥ם אֲבֹתַ֖י אַבְרָהָ֣ם וְיִצְחָ֑ק וְיִדְגּ֥וּ לָרֹ֖ב בְּקֶ֥רֶב הָאָֽרֶץ׃

“The Angel who has redeemed me from all harm—
Bless the lads.
In them may my name be recalled,
And the names of my fathers, Abraham and Isaac,
And may they be teeming multitudes upon the earth.” Genesis 48

Jacob’s blessing is both realistic and timeless. He acknowledges life’s inevitable challenges and offers a blessing generated by a wish for redemption from harm. At the same time, he creates a profound connection across generations, invoking the memory of ancestors while anticipating the legacy of future descendants. Joseph, for his part, ensures his father’s blessing remains vital to his family’s story.

Fast forward to 2024. A dear friend with a debilitating but short-lived illness shared her pain at the lack of daily check-ins from her children, who offered little more than occasional texts and phone calls. Another friend confided that the geographic and emotional distance between them and their adult children feels impossible to bridge.

New standards shape modern parent-child relationships. We encourage our children to pursue happiness wherever it takes them, emphasizing autonomy and individuality. “Don’t guilt your children into meeting your expectations,” we are told.

At the same time, we plan for the consequences of these growing distances. We buy long-term care insurance, knowing we might lack family to support us in our old age. We modify our homes to ensure they are accessible, preparing to age in place. Independent senior living facilities are thriving businesses, driven by the idealized reality that living longer self-reliantly often means living alone but with greater needs.

The statistics speak for themselves: the population of people over 90 is growing rapidly. Yet longevity demands more support—medical care is increasingly complex and impersonal. If hospitalized, you need an advocate. If mobility declines, you need an aide. Moving in with family or depending on children and grandchildren for care feels increasingly uncommon.

Even as I write this, I hesitate to admit these thoughts aloud. Perhaps it feels selfish to wonder what I can expect from my children as I grow older. Yet the question lingers: are we truly preparing our families for a future where care and connection go hand in hand? Or are we quietly accepting a world where independence triumphs and the bonds between generations grow fragile?

The answers may not come easily, but the questions demand that we reflect—not only on how we care for our parents but on the legacy of care and connection we hope to leave behind for our children.

Rabbi Evan J. Krame