Full Moon in Leo: Soulmates, Grief, and the Love That Remains
“I saw and heard, and knew at last / The How and Why of all things, past, / and present, and forevermore.”
— Renascence, Edna St. Vincent Millay
Today is the Full Moon in Leo — what Kabbalists call the cosmic day of love, also known as “Soulmates Day.” (Yep, we’ve been doing Valentine’s Day backwards, as in, the opposite season lol.)
It’s also the 15th anniversary of my father’s death.
So, yes. Let’s talk about grief, love, and the important, beautiful way they’re intertwined. Because love lost and pain around our relationships can be blocking new nasty, juicy love in our lives. Let’s change that, shall we?!
Soulmates Day, Grief, and Love’s Unseen Threads
Today, on this Full Moon in Leo — what Kabbalists call the cosmic day of love, or “Soulmates Day” — we celebrate connection and the love that surrounds us. But why speak of grief on a day meant for love? Because sometimes, pain and loss blind us to the love that is right in front of us, or within us. Grief can be love with no place to go, a silent weight that keeps us from fully opening our hearts. So, how do you grieve? Do you allow yourself to feel it? Maybe it is time to gently release some of that grief and pain — to clear space for love to flow in more freely.
Love, Wisdom, and Why We’re Here: Kabbalah 101
I’ve studied Kabbalah for over 20 years. I’m not a religious person; I’m a seeker of wisdom. Kabbalah means to receive and it’s all about wisdom. I’ve always believed there must be a reason we’re here — that the love my mother has for me, and the way she’s guided me through life, can’t be for nothing. That the pain of the world can’t be pointless. That the instant attraction we feel for someone, or a place or some learning, or conversely the disgust or our fears: it must mean and be for something.
Kabbalah was the first place I found a wisdom tradition that dealt with exactly that, looking at the hard stuff without pulling punches:
That each person is needed. That the world was built for us to fulfill a specific purpose. That everything — from people to animals to even plants — has a soul. That life is about transformation, and yes, about love. That what we do matters, always.
It’s not perfect — people are people, after all — but as someone said to me when I first began studying: The teachings never fail.
Kabbalah is centered around teachings in the Zohar (“splendor”), a text of allegories and mystical stories that carry lessons for our lives. And here’s one of the most important, a base:
There is no coercion in spirituality. We can’t be forced to change. We can only be invited. Taking that up is on each one of us.
(You can learn more about Kabbalah from Kabbalah.com, and teachers on IG like Marcus Weston, Michael Berg, Batya Solomon, David Ghiyam and Eitan Yardeni. I study from and with them; I’m not paid.)
My Father, My First Soulmate
My father was absent for most of my childhood. I wrote about him in my most-read article on Medium, The Death of a Shitty Parent: 5 Things I Wish I’d Known — a title that still makes me laugh and wince in equal measure. That piece struck a chord because it spoke about a grief we rarely name: mourning someone who hurt us, someone who wasn’t there. It got thousands of readers because it’s that prevalent. A follow up piece, Ten Years Gone: A Parental Grief We Can No Longer Ignore further explored the issue: complicated feelings of pain and love deserve a voice. Healing is possible.
Here’s the truth: my dad was more than the pain. He was also deeply sensitive. And in the three years we had together before he died, we connected in ways I’d never expected.
When he passed, it felt cruel. Like the universe had dangled this relationship in front of me, just long enough to rip it away. The darkness of that first year was profound. I didn’t smile for months. I didn’t laugh for many more.
Friends came and went — as they do during death — but the ones who stayed gave me the grace of “one year to fall apart before they pulled me back”. They told me: Sit in this. We’re watching. We’ll help you when it’s time. Luckily I came out of it with only lost time, but their care was everything.
Grief, I learned, as the saying goes, is love with nowhere to go. In that heartbreak, I found new love for my father, and for myself.
Healing Beyond Death: Love Beyond Death
Kabbalists teach that after death, our loved ones are closer than they ever were in life — free of their baggage, their wounds, their earthly limitations.
That was true for me. My relationship with my father has continued to heal in the 15 years since his passing.
And here’s where the “no accidents” part comes in:
- He died on the Shabbat of Consolation.
- He died on the 13th of Av, the Hebrew month of Leo — 13 being the number connected to love.
- He was born during the Torah portion Lech Lecha, associated with soulmates.
- And he gave me my middle name, Avie — “from the father” in Hebrew. (He wasn’t Jewish and didn’t speak Hebrew. Make of that what you will.)
No such thing as coincidences.
We can heal our wounds in love. Even our most profound ones. And in doing so, make space for love.
The Lesson of This Day
Parents are our first soulmates — undeniable, even if the relationship is complicated or painful. If they’re alive, we can choose to transform that connection now. If they’re gone, we can still heal it.
Love is not just sweetness and light. It’s also grief, anger, and the work of transformation. My father, in his own flawed way, taught me that love isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up — even imperfectly.
He once told me he left because he thought it was the best thing for me. It wasn’t true, but it was his truth. He couldn’t see his own worth, couldn’t heal his pain, couldn’t imagine he deserved more. That’s its own kind of tragedy — and its own kind of love.
Death, many say, is an illusion. As love is something we cannot touch yet know is real, I invite you to consider that we can love beyond what we can see and use that love to heal. We can even heal pains that are unimaginably cruel, like an absent parent. I say this because I know I have. And if I can, as the saying goes…
For You, on This Full Moon
The Full Moon in Leo — ruled by the heart — and its partner sign, Aquarius — ruler of universal love — ask us to remember:
Love makes you more yourself, not less.
Love is action, not just feeling.
Love is strong, humble, and transformative.
Today, I renew my love for myself, for my father, and for the soulmates — in all their forms — who have shaped me.
And I hope you do too.
Because grief, when we allow it, is just another door to love.
It’s time we start talking about our pains in love to heal and create space for greater loves, and more love in our world.
Grief and love are woven together — two sides of the same deep, human experience. When we open to grief, we open to healing, and when we heal, we make room for love to grow stronger than ever. On this Soulmates Day, may you find the courage to release what holds you back and the grace to welcome love in all its imperfect, transformative power. Forevermore, love remains — waiting for us to see it, feel it, and share it.
Wants to know. Has some questions. Very Sag. Always up for pizza. Planning several trips. Big fan of joy. Wants to talk about it. All of them. Is sure we can figure out this whole living thing. Is rooting for you.
