“Mommy? No, Auntie” – A Story of Love Between Generations Who Never Met

By Liraz Avramatu, MSW, Director of the Harry & Jeanette Weinberg Retiree Center in Jerusalem

For the past four years, I’ve had the privilege of managing the Harry & Jeanette Weinberg Retiree Center in Jerusalem, which serves retirees with disabilities. Throughout this time, I’ve witnessed again and again how human connection is our most basic and profound need. Regardless of age or ability, we all want to feel meaningful, loved, and needed.

In my conversations with the retirees at the center, I’ve discovered a quiet, often unspoken pain that lies deep within many of them.
The vast majority have no children or grandchildren. They watch their siblings surrounded by the warm embrace of the next generation and are left with a painful sense of loss—not only for what they don’t have, but also for what they never will.

From that pain, a dream was born—a dream for connection, for giving, for the warm hug of a child.
That’s how our initiative came to life: retirees volunteering in a kindergarten.

Chen, a kindergarten teacher with a huge heart, opened her door to us—and more importantly, opened her heart. From the very first moment, the children welcomed the retirees as if they had always been there. No labels, no second glances—just curiosity, love, and joy.

When Ruti, one of the retirees, walks into the classroom, the children leap with excitement and shout, “Mommy! Mommy!”
She smiles and gently corrects them, “I’m Auntie,” then dives into play—digging in the sand, painting, playing with dolls.

Hana spends her week reading stories to her friends at the center so she can later share them with the children and ask them questions. The children listen intently, fully immersed in the story, curious and engaged.

Esther is the queen of games. She learned new ones especially for the children—like color tag for the playground—and swings with them outside or joins them in board games and building blocks. It all depends on which little hand reaches for hers in that moment.

And in those small moments, something big happens.

Within laughter, colors, and songs, disability melts away. It simply disappears.
All that remains are people.
One heart meeting another.
A true connection is made.

And it turns out, the embrace goes both ways.

It creates transformation—for the retirees, who melt under the children’s hugs and feel truly loved and valued, and for the children, who are learning to see people heart to heart.