Beatrice Taishoff had always been fiercely independent, with a strong will for life. Yet when she entered Jewish Home Lifecare in the Bronx at the age of 98, she was in a bad state. She didn’t recognize her children when they came to visit her and quickly withdrew into an uncommunicative shell.

Taishoff yearned to meet her maker, to put an end to her misery. “My pillow is wet from tears that I am still alive,” she would tell her social worker, Sandy Meyers, before throwing Meyers out of the room.

Taishoff didn’t have dementia; she was depressed, Meyers realized. The cure? Not more medication, but rather the writing of an ethical will, a spiritual document that sums up what a person has learned in life, as well as the values and lessons he or she wishes to share with family members.

The two soon forged a daily ritual. Toward the end of the day, Meyers would invite Taishoff into her office. Taishoff would talk, stream-of-conscious style, about her upbringing and how she had supported her mother throughout her life, her life experiences — including being caught in a typhoon in the Sea of Japan — and that family always comes first. For close to two months, Meyers would type what Taishoff said and print it out for Taishoff to edit. “The process made me see that I still had much to give of myself to my family and this was my opportunity — my salvation,” she wrote in her ethical will, dated April 2002.

Writing the ethical will gave Taishoff a purpose and transformed her demeanor, says Sherman Taishoff, Beatrice’s son. “She told me, ‘I know I’m Jewish, but this was really my resurrection.’” At the time, Meyers remembered Lou, Sherman’s brother, thanking her saying, “You’ve given us our mother back.” Taishoff ended up living three more years, which were marked by a vibrancy that had until then eluded her.

Ethical wills are growing in popularity these days, and not only among the elderly, says Rabbi Jack Riemer, the co-editor of “So Your Values Live On: Ethical Wills and How to Prepare Them” (Jewish Lights Publishing: 1991). “People are aware of their mortality; we live in a fragile world,” he says. Also, “people used to live close to children and grandchildren. Now, “Nobody lives in the same state or same state of mind as their grandchildren.”

The economy may well have played a role, as well. As parents and grandparents face dwindling stock portfolios, they’re recognizing the value in bequeathing to their children a variety of non-material assets — in the form of ethical wills that share family values and history.

For many, the notion of an ethical will was best publicized by President Barack Obama’s letter to his daughters, published in Parade magazine, explaining “why I decided to take our family on this journey” to the White House. “It is only when you hitch your wagon to something larger than yourself that you will realize your true potential,” the president instructed his daughters, Malia and Sasha.

The tradition of the ethical will dates back to the Bible (Genesis 49:1-33), when Jacob gathered his sons to offer them blessings and rebuke. Before his death, Moses offered the nation an ethical will of sorts, in which he instructed the Jewish people to encourage their children to follow God’s laws once they enter the Holy Land.

This tradition continues to this day, with several examples of ethical wills scattered throughout the Talmud, as well as medieval and modern Hebrew literature. Israel Abraham’s “Hebrew Ethical Wills” provides a wealth of examples, including Judah Ibn Tibbon’s “A Father’s Admonition,” Joseph Ibn Kaspi’s “Guide to Knowledge” and Eleazar of Mayence’s “The Ideals of an Average Jew.” One well-known example is the iggeret, the letter that the 12th-century scholar Nachmanides wrote to his son, in which he lauds the traits of humility, diligent Torah study and pure prayer. “Every day that you shall read this letter, heaven shall answer your heart’s desires,” he instructs his son.

Norman Pell first learned about ethical wills a few years ago, when Beatrice Taishoff, who is his son-in-law’s mother, shared her ethical will with the extended family. At first, he believed that writing his own ethical will was unnecessary. “Those who know me already know about me the principles I try to live by, and what is important in my life,” he writes in the introduction to his ethical will. “I even thought it would be counterproductive to reduce these thoughts to writing.”

After embarking on the project, however, Pell discovered great benefit in writing down one’s hopes, dreams and even disappointments. With the encouragement of Rabbi David Wolpe, he researched the topic and began giving ethical will writing workshops in Los Angeles, where he lives.

He begins the workshops by differentiating between three types of wills: the living will, the traditional will and the ethical will. “A regular will outlines your material assets and a living will makes known one’s wishes regarding life-prolonging medical treatment,” he says. “Both are legal documents.” An ethical will, however, doesn’t have to conform to strict rules. “It can be one paragraph or several pages,” he says. “For all intents and purposes, Mitch Albom’s best-seller ‘Tuesdays With Morrie’ can be considered an ethical will.”

“Do you know who you are named after?” Pell often asks those who attend his workshops. Often, participants will reply, “I’m named for my grandfather; he was a nice guy.” But they don’t know much more about the man or woman their parents admired enough to name them for. An ethical will not only forces a person to reexamine his or her life and goals, but also ensures a lasting legacy for future generations. “In 50 years, someone will name somebody after you,” Pell often says. “Wouldn’t it be nice if they knew what your life was all about?”

For Alex Sobel, an 85-year-old from Yonkers who is the last of his siblings alive, writing an ethical will serves as an opportunity to record family history before it becomes long forgotten. “I want my two children and four grandchildren and nephews and nieces to know where I came from and how I lived my life,” he says. “It’s important because among today’s generation of kids, the question of where you came from is no longer asked.”

On a recent day, Sobel read the beginnings of his ethical will to this reporter. In it, he tells of how his grandfather was killed by lightning while walking home from work, how a friend introduced his parents to one another, and about their first home in East Harlem. He plans to add in his experiences during World War II.

To this day, Sobel regrets that he never finished up his college education. And so, one of the messages he’d like to impart on his grandchildren is the importance of education and accomplishing your goals.

Writing an ethical will isn’t easy, Pell cautions. “It’s not something you sit and write in a day,” he says. “It can take a year. When you do so, you finally come to face who you really are.

E-mail: tamar@jewishweek.org