From The Past To The Future

Joseph is a precocious child who made full sentences by the age of 17 months. He made me very proud when I took him out with the other mommies as he impressed with his vocabulary and was consequently particularly charming.

My peculiar tale starts a year ago and requires a certain level of condoning from the skeptic mind.

I woke up in the middle of the night to chilling screams and a thump that I immediately recognized as Joseph. “Almaaaa! Almmaaa!” I ran to his room and found him in a fetal position on the floor, he had a glassy look in his eyes. As I came close, I noticed that he was having difficulty breathing, I could see his chest rising and collapsing elaborately.“Baby, it’s ok, mommy is here” I whispered. The sound of heavy wheezing and the deafening beating of my own heart was all I got back. I held my son for a few minutes, his body seemed to relax and regulate itself back to normal. He closed his eyes and I placed him back in his bed and stayed half asleep next to him. This was the very first time.

That morning, four years old Joseph sat at the breakfast table with a very grave look on his face.

“Don’t worry Jojo, I took an appointment with Dr. Simmons this afternoon”

“ I don’t want Dr. Simmons, I want to see Alma” he replied in a choked-up voice.

“Alma? Who’s Alma?” The chilling screams of the previous night came back to mind.

“Alma is my sister, mommy” I was partly amused at first, a little intrigued; he doesn’t have a sister. He is an only child.

“I left her alone and I must see her” There was something about the way he was saying this nonsense that sent shivers down my spine. It was slightly eerie.

I dismissed it and proceeded to get him ready for school. It was fall and the weather had suddenly turned bitterly cold in New York City. We needed the whole gear; scarf, gloves, and as I was about to put his wool beanie hat on, he jumped back.

“I want my blue and red tuque mom” he exclaimed.

“Tuque? What is a tuque Joseph?” He was acting weird!

From that day on, he was transformed. For a couple of months, he woke up every other night screaming “Alma” with anguish and proceeded to have what looks like a mini asthma attack. Dr Simmons had no explanations for this and assured me Joseph didn’t have any issues with his lungs.

After having found a blue beanie with a red stripe for him, Jojo wore it everywhere and all day, even to bed. He was so adamant about it, that I didn’t interfere. I was however very concerned by his behavior.

I took note of all the odd things that were piling up and started sharing them with my sister as my confidant. I did not know what to make of all this. She was the first one to suggest the idea of past life memories. We are a family of scientists and do not give reincarnation much credence!

I felt unconvinced with the idea until one fateful day. We were passing by Madison square garden. A huge screen was projecting a hockey game, Joseph froze and started hyperventilating, he then started to jump up in joy, squealing in excitement. It was strange to witness! We don’t do sports! We don’t watch or discuss any.

That very night, Joseph explained with unnerving precision all the rules of hockey and begged me to get him a stick and a puck. “A puck?” My husband looked at me perplexed and rolled his eyes. He was annoyed we were going along with all these harebrained ideas.

That’s it! I had to get to the bottom of this. I needed to open my mind. I sat my little guy, looked him straight in the eyes, and asked him how he knew all this.

“Hockey was my passion before when I was bigger!” My stomach knotted. The room went cold. My sister might be right.

“Jojo, when you say you were bigger, what do you mean?” I asked softly. He hesitated, looked away, took a deep breath, and set in motion the metaphorical explosion of my mind;

“Mom, I was another person, I was Omer. I had a younger sister named Alma, we were best friends and our parents worked at a pulp mill in a little town full of snow” I was stunned by the mature tone and the words that came out of my four years old’s mouth. I was starting to feel panicked though at how to deal with this and did not want my anguish to show. I did not want Joseph to feel like he was creeping me out. He was creeping me out! I was mentally making a note to call Dr Simmons and get a reference for a child psychologist. At that precise moment, my sister calls me, she was on vacation in Montreal with her boyfriend.

”You will never believe what I found! I was strolling at a Christmas market and my eye caught a blue and red beanie and I immediately thought of Joseph and how much he would love it. The lady that sells them, makes them by hand. I just sent you a picture on your phone, check it out!” she said barely able to contain herself. I had a feeling this was going to unfold a very bizarre series of events.

The picture loaded and revealed what looked like a tag with a handwritten note that read:

‘Les Tuques d’Alma’ I was startled by the synchronicity of all this. My heart warmed up; My baby might not be losing his mind.

“Isn’t this strange?” exclaimed my sister “The two things he’s been obsessing over?’’

“Can you please ask the lady if she knew an Omer?” I mumbled incredulously.

I hear my sister’s muffled voice on the other side of the line in her college-level french inquire about my son’s past life. It feels surreal but here I was. Jojo comes up to me and holds my hand to reassure me. He gives me one of his disarming smiles and with the sweetest voice asks me if we could go join Aunt Claire.

“I used to live not too far from Montreal” he added casually.

“ Ok, Carol! This is getting wild! Not only does she know an Omer! He is the inspiration for all her beanies!” my sister blared on the phone interrupting my bewilderment.

“ I am driving up tomorrow. Just send me your hotel info and I’ll see you then” I hung up. My anxiety was raging, my limbs shaking and the tightness in my chest was making it difficult to concentrate.

The next day, Joseph and I hit the road and for the 6 hours it took to get to Montreal, we remained mostly silent. Every time I looked in the rearview mirror, he had a smile on his face. He looked mature way beyond his years and my heart went out to my little guy.

Claire met us in the lobby of the hotel that afternoon. She had tears in her eyes when she hugged Jojo. She sat him down and gave him the beanie and with a quivering voice explained to him how she met a lady yesterday who knits these in memory of her brother Omer that died when she was a young girl.

“That’s me, Auntie Claire! Can I see her? can I see my sister ?” Claire shot me a worried look.

“Let’s call the number on the tag and see if we can meet with her” I suggested. My head was racing with different ideas on how to approach the subject with this lady. She was surely not going to believe me. I didn’t want to let my boy down and frankly, I was desperate to get this whole thing over with. Claire thought it would be quicker to just revisit the Christmas market and accost her.

“I do not think ambushing the woman with a toddler in tow claiming he is her deceased brother is going to go smoothly.”

As Claire and I were discussing the various ways we can present the situation to Alma, we hear a shriek coming from Jojo.

“I know where to go, we have to go to Shawinigan, that’s where we live” That last clue persuaded me to just grab the phone and call her. “Que sera sera!” My sister assured me Alma was fluent in English and wished me luck.

When she answered the phone, my heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath and told her the whole story of Joseph and his night terrors screaming her name and all the many details he gave me that brought us to her. “All this could very well be a coincidence of course, but today, my son said he grew up in Shawinigan, and he can barely pronounce that!” I stated with a voice full of emotions I couldn’t even discern or contain.

“Dear! I believe in reincarnation, I am overjoyed you found me. What you are telling me is uncanny but accurate. My brother and I were born and raised in Shawinigan to workers of the local pulp mill. Omer was older than me and we were very close. He was passionated about hockey, he would play outside every day regardless of the cold weather. To keep him warm I started to knit him tuques in his favorite team’s colors, the Montreal Canadians. He died at the age of seventeen from an acute asthma attack. I was only fourteen. I was devastated.” she spoke in a crackling voice, deeply moved by her memories.

“I would love to meet Joseph” she said letting out an unexpected roar of laughter. “The universe works in mysterious ways! I am about to let go of my family home with the atelier where I knit because of financial difficulties. I was sorting through fifty years of belongings just a couple of months ago when I found a box with some of Omer’s stuff. It is indeed strange to have him come back to me in such a way” she chuckled.

We met Alma for breakfast in downtown Montreal the next day. The moment she laid eyes on Jojo, she ran to him and enveloped him in a tight embrace. This deep display of love and affection that my son was sharing with a stranger was very unsettling to me. However, I reminded myself this was not about me, I’m here to support my baby. That encounter triggered a full-blown trip down memory lane for them. Alma was addressing him as Omer and they discussed their first dog’s name down to their mother's high-pitched voice. All of a sudden, Alma’s face darkened.

“I have to let go of the house Omer, I can’t pay the last taxes. I found a box of your stuff just last week.” Tears started to roll down her cheeks as she held Jojo's tiny hands in hers and gave them little kisses. The intensity of their bond was palpable. The mood became heavy, I was hesitant to jump in as my discomfort was increasingly hard to restrain. There was something exceptionally beautiful and poignant about this moment...if only it wasn't my child!

It was my little man that took charge. He dried her tears with a firm hand, a demeanor and body language that were unfamiliar and almost otherworldly.

“Tu as mes cahiers?” he whispered.

I did not understand at that time what he said, all I knew was it was french. Alma’s face was more shocked than ever. More than mine I was sure for she had understood on the spot what he said and she had indeed found his “cahiers”. He asked her about notebooks, you see?

In the same tone of a whisper, she then answered him “J’en ai 85 Omer!’’ they both stared at each other with the same twinkle in the eyes.

“Le noir, Alma” he murmured.

The waiter came to our table right then and as if a spell was broken, we came back to reality. Alma suggested we go back to her son’s home in Brossard. She had moved her boxes there with all of Omer’s stuff.

At Martin’s house, we were welcomed with open arms as he sat us down for a drink, Alma got her boxes. Joseph looked very focused and very eager for things to unfold. Looking back, I can testify to a certain knowing he exuded.

When they opened the box, we were all holding our breath. Omer had an impressive collection of notebooks. I was immediately transported by all the energy they contained. They were all thick and filled with memories and stories, all written in his handwriting, imbued with his essence and spirit. There was so much power in that.

Then I saw it, that oilskin color, leather, bound like a book, it was the only one. A perfect black rectangle with an elegant elastic page holder akin to the famous Moleskine. The one Jojo asked for.

“Open it, open it” he pleaded. She looked up and smiled. “What’s so special about this one Omer?”. As she caressed the pages that seemed to be filled with hockey stats and team logos drawn carefully, she was quite literally connecting the past with the future.

“There is an internal pocket, in it, something for you” We all looked at each other, the four of us. All eyes were on the notebook in Alma’s hands. I was so nervous for Joseph, there was an overwhelming sense of culmination in the air. Alma reached in and took out what looked like a Kraft paper envelope. She was shaking profusely and handed it to Martin who had his arms around her. When Martin took out the card inside and looked at it, he almost fainted. A few moments later, he informed us in a stunned hush that he found a rare Jacques Plante 1955 Quaker Oats collection Hockey card in mint condition. Martin looked at Jojo with shock. “Good one mon oncle!” he roared ecstatically.

“Ma, I could get a lot of money for this card! You can save the family house, you can keep the atelier Ma! How did this happen ?!” Without missing a beat Alma asks “How much?”

In one phone call, Martin was able to secure a buyer in his circle of rare hockey cards collectors. “Will 20,000$ do Ma?” He squealed while picking her up and twirling her.

Joseph was screaming as well and pumping his little fists in the air. I was taken by the strong emotions and the love pouring at that moment. I could not comprehend how privileged I felt to have seen this through. My son looked at me with so much gratitude that my heart felt like it will explode in pieces.

“Thank you for being my mommy, I’m very happy to be Joseph”.

As we were leaving and saying our goodbyes, Alma hugged Jojo tightly, she knelled until eye level.

“Omer we will see each other soon enough! Thank you for guiding Joseph to me.” Then looking up at me and back at him.

“I’m so honored I met you kid, go and be the best Joseph you can be. I’m rooting for you on this side and when I join Omer we will both continue to cheer you from the other side. You are loved.”

With perspective, her words were so cathartic for me and my child. We left there with a sense of peace and completion. Jojo resumed life as a five years old boy with ease and resilience. He has no more nightmares. He is still obsessed with Hockey though but so am I lately! Go Habs Go !