I was seven years old the last time I saw the Rebbe. It was November 1993.

From September 1992 through October 1993, the Rebbe participated in prayer services in the main synagogue at Chabad Headquarters (770) from a balcony, and my strongest memories of seeing the Rebbe are in that setting. During this period, there were also times that the Rebbe sat at the doorway of his room and people were able to walk by and be in his presence for a moment.

My final memory is from one such opportunity. In the fall of 1993, I came to New York together with my father for the International Conference of Chabad Emissaries. By then, the Rebbe had not been seen on the balcony for over two weeks due to his medical condition. As a child, I expected to see the Rebbe there—just as I had seen him for several weeks during the previous summer—but it did not happen.

This was, of course, very disappointing for a little boy from El Paso who wanted nothing more than to see the Rebbe.

On Sunday evening, it was announced that the Rebbe would sit at the doorway of his study to greet visiting emissaries and their families as they walked by. My father hurried with me to 770 and we joined the line. After several minutes, we were inside, walking in the hallway adjacent to the Rebbe’s room. I saw the Rebbe for a fleeting moment and it is my clearest memory of seeing him so close.

I had seen the Rebbe many times before and was privileged to receive dollars, wine, and even a Torah booklet from him. But this was different. This time the Rebbe gave me the most precious gift of being in his presence—so close—when it seemed impossible. But the Rebbe made it possible.

The Rebbe is renowned for many reasons. He taught Torah for thousands of hours—published in hundreds of volumes, responded to tens of thousands of letters on every imaginable issue, and unleashed a revolution of Jewish awakening across the globe. But the amount of time he spent meeting people in person is of a different caliber than any leader I’m aware of in history.

For 30 years, anyone could schedule a private audience with him until the overwhelming demand for such meetings made it impossible. Starting in 1986, the Rebbe stood every Sunday near his office and distributed dollars to be given to charity to anyone who wished to join the line. As the weekly lines grew, the Rebbe held dollar distributions even more frequently, sometimes gifting everyone a Torah book or booklet. When the Rebbe was 89 years old, there were times he greeted people for dozens of hours as week—all while standing on his feet.

And even when he was no longer able to distribute dollars, he made sure to avail himself to those wishing to pass by for a few moments of connection—many of whom were children.

I always wondered why the Rebbe invested so much of his precious time and energy into greeting individuals in such an unprecedented manner.

In the book of Numbers, we learn that toward the beginning of the second year of the Israelites’ desert sojourn, G‑d commanded Moses and Aaron to take a census. Nachmanadies1 explains the final tally was not the only goal of this census. The very process of counting served an important purpose. Every individual Jew stood in the presence of the great and holy prophets Moses and Aaron; they saw their faces and heard their names. The personal encounter with these divine agents was a source of blessing and spiritual empowerment for the individual.

With tremendous physical strain, the Rebbe made himself available to everyone who sought to be in his presence, to meet the individual eye to eye, because he understood the tremendous potential these meetings could unleash. And the thousands of stories and testimonies attest to the fact that they did.

Even after the passing of our righteous leaders, their impact continues in the physical world just as during their lifetimes. One of the ways to connect to their spiritual energy is by visiting their graves. In Parshat Shelach, we learn that Caleb was one of two heroes who bucked the trend and pushed back against the deceptive slander the Spies spread about the Promised Land. His courage came from his visit to the graves of our holy patriarchs in Hebron while scouting the land.

Today, 30 years after the Rebbe’s passing, these individual meetings continue to happen at the Ohel, the Rebbe’s resting place in Queens, New York. Thousands visit weekly, and many continue to experience the Rebbe’s love, attention, and even guidance to their most pressing questions. Most importantly they are empowered to grow in their personal lives, to make the world a better place in ways that previously felt unimaginable. I’ve heard scores of stories first-hand and hundreds abound. You can read a sampling of these stories here.

Although one can always write letters and petitions for blessing to the Rebbe at the Ohel via email (your confidentiality is assured), I encourage you to travel to New York and visit the Ohel. Just as the Rebbe insisted on being accessible to every individual up close, we can be in the Rebbe’s presence today at the Ohel, at all times of the day and night.