Three generations, One soul lesson

The other day, while sorting through some old things, I found my grandma’s birth chart.

Printed in that blocky 1980s style, it looked like something pulled from a typewriter. A relic. But holding it felt electric — like an invitation. I’d been saying for a while that I knew I was here to finish what my grandma started. And if that was true, then my mum must be the bridge. So I decided to trace the thread: her chart, my mum’s, and mine.

What I found wasn’t just interesting. It was undeniable.

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Grandma – The Initiator

Grandma was born in 1941 with an Aries Sun and Gemini Moon. Fierce and fiery, quick-witted and restless. Her soul lesson was Libra — to learn balance, fairness, and partnership.

But she carried a wound in Cancer. A deep ache around nurturing and safety, mothering and being mothered. It shaped her life in ways she may not have had words for.

She began the lesson, but she couldn’t complete it. And that’s okay. Not every soul finishes their homework in one lifetime.

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Mum – The Bridge

Then came my mum in 1965. A Libra Sun — the very thing Grandma was trying to learn. She was the bridge. She embodied balance and fairness, but her Virgo Moon made her emotionally sensitive and practical — sometimes painfully so.

That Virgo Moon is exactly what I inherited from her. We share the same emotional DNA. It’s why we can understand each other without words, but also why we sometimes reflect each other’s sensitivities a little too clearly.

Her wound (Chiron in Pisces) was around faith and boundaries — the sacrifice of giving too much, the lesson of learning to trust. She carried that thread, healing parts of what Grandma couldn’t.

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Me – The Integrator

And then there’s me. Another Libra Sun. Another Virgo Moon. But with Cancer Rising — the nurturer. My chart is like the full-circle note on the song Grandma started: I came to heal what she couldn’t, and to carry forward what Mum began but couldn’t finish.

Even our wounds form a dynasty:

Grandma’s wound was nurture (Cancer).

Mum’s wound was faith (Pisces).

Mine is voice (Gemini).

Nurture. Faith. Voice.

Together, they tell the whole story of our line. The unspoken ache of belonging. The sacrifice of trust. The struggle to be heard. And — most importantly — the healing of it all, not just through one woman, but through three generations passing the baton.

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The Soul Weave

When I look at us side by side, it feels like a play in three acts:

Grandma initiated the lesson.

Mum embodied it.

I came to integrate and voice it.

We’re not separate. We’re one soul story unfolding over time.

And maybe that’s why I’ve always felt this pull — that I came to finish what Grandma started. Not in a heavy way, but in a way that honours her and nudges Mum into remembering her part too.

Because healing doesn’t always happen in one lifetime, or even in one person. Sometimes it’s carried, softened, and stitched back together across a lineage.

We’re proof of that.