I haven’t seen or spoken to my parents for years now.

This isn’t due to negligence or lack of caring, it’s just that they’re no longer in this world.

Nonetheless, we keep in touch. I guess you could call it a “long distance” relationship.

With that in mind, I’d like to share something that happened to me this week.

I‘m currently producing a new cartoon series called Pig Goat Banana Cricket for Nickelodeon, and I was getting ready to visit our animation studio in Mexico City. A few days before the trip, I walked into the kitchen and saw a strange site. A large zip-lock bag filled with a stack of old passports. They belonged to my parents and grandparents.

Alongside the passports were a stack of Mexican pesos.

That bag had been sitting in a storage box for years. I have no idea why it was unearthed when it was. But there it was right before my trip, my parents’ passports, and of all things – a stack of Mexican pesos.

In their ongoing love, my parents were giving me spending money for my trip.

We use passports to travel from one country to another. Or, from this world to the next, and I couldn’t escape the feeling that my parents, in their ongoing love, were giving me spending money for my trip.

But how?

The Talmud teaches that this world and the next world are as close as two hairs on a person’s head. They’re as interconnected as one cup stacked within another. Our dimensions intersect. We just don’t have the eyes to see it.

The bills were old but at the airport, the man behind the glass partition of the currency exchange assured me that they were still good.

My brother-in-law lives with his family in Mexico City. Before I left my wife emailed him, asking about kosher restaurants near my hotel. He wrote back impishly with the address of “a restaurant for my soul” – in other words, the location of the nearest shul to pray in, and the time morning services start.

One of the wonderful things about being part of the Jewish community is that you can walk into any shul around the world and instantly speak the same language. Walls fall, and you realize the larger Oneness we all inhabit.

During the prayers, someone came around collecting tzedakah, charity, for the poor of the community. I wanted to give but I was in a foreign country, so I wasn’t sure what to do. Then I realized I had my parent’s pesos! I reached into my pocket, took out the bills, and gave them to tzedakah.

The idea that children can reach to a place in time and space that our parents no longer have access to amazes me. What a privilege it is to be our parents’ hands and have the potential to complete what they may have wanted to, but no longer can.

This goes beyond our parents. It applies to the dreams of all the previous generations who worked and yearned to bring the redemption. We are their hands. We are their feet.

But let’s go deeper. The same dynamic that applies between parent and child also applies to us and our own selves.

On Rosh Hashanah, God creates us anew. The previous version of ourselves no longer exists.

As such, the new inspired us has the ability to complete the work the old us never got a chance to finish. The new inspired me can reach to a place (in time and space) and do what the old me may have desired, but was never able to accomplish.

That means I can fix my own soul.

May God bless us to see the wondrous completion of our work, of our parents work, and of the work that all the previous generations gave their souls over to bring into reality.