Turning the Page (Jodi Moore)

Last year, instead of sharing my goals on the blog, I selected a word to inspire me. The word was “connect”. There were so many amazing words to choose from, but as an author, this one spoke to me. I have to connect with my readers…to help them connect with their world.

Admittedly, this is a hard blog to write because at the moment, I feel more than a bit disconnected. Last week, I received a call that no one ever wants to receive. My dad suddenly and unexpectedly left this world. 

I’m devastated. Our entire family is. He was a loving father and grandfather. I remember, as a child, standing at the top of our steps and jumping off with abandon, secure in knowing my dad would catch me at the bottom. He always provided that safe place to land. I guess you could say it was a living metaphor of what was to come in my teenage years, where my mom – and thus, the entire family – battled with the challenges of mental illness and the alcohol with which she tried to wash it down.

My dad never let me fall. Ever.

I started to write we never got a chance to say our last goodbye. Or “I love you”. But that’s not true. Because my dad and I were connected. I spoke to him every week (if not more) and though he lived one thousand miles away, we visited him as much as we could. I called him the day before he died to wish him Happy Hanukkah. We laughed. We talked about normal, everyday things. The price of getting a car fixed. Computer issues. Potato latkes. And the great pride we shared in our family.

And at the end, before we said goodbye, we said, “I love you.” We always did.

Of course, since life can be an unruly tangle of extreme joy and pain, the following day I was given permission by my Flashlight Press editor to share that there will be a new Dragon book next May, a board book for the littlest readers called I Love My Dragon.

It’s bittersweet for me. My dad knew it was coming, of course. But what he didn’t know was that it had been dedicated in part to him. It was supposed to be a surprise:

For Mom, who placed that first book in my hand, and for Dad, who helped turn the page.

I truly wish I could place this book in his hand.
Much love and thanks to my editor, Shari Dash Greenspan, our brilliant illustrator, Howard McWilliam, and the entire Flashlight family for making this book, this dedication, possible.

Please hug your precious ones a little harder today. Tell them you love them. Provide them that safe place to land. Connect. It’s the greatest gift you can both give and receive. Wishing you all a happy, healthy and safe holiday season, surrounded by family, friends and love.


  1. Very touching post. I had a similar connection with my mom. We were both in recovery and chaired each other's anniversaries for more than 25 years. She was also a writer and had a second stroke while finishing her second mystery novel. My sister and I are in the process of editing is for posthumous publication and as I do so, I realize how much of my writing style I got from her.

  2. Thank you, Berek. I'm so sorry you have to know such pain, but I think it's beautiful that her writing lives on through you. (((Hugs))) to you and your family.

  3. So sorry about your dad, Jodi! Nice post.

  4. I am so sorry to hear about your dad. I lost my mom a few months before my first novel was published. I'll never NOT regret that.

    1. Oh Patty...I'm so sorry you have to know this type of pain. Sending you hugs and love. xoxo Thank you for sharing.


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