Police Officer Derek Chauvin was found guilty of murdering George Floyd.
Afterwards, while I rested and reflected upon the events that lead to this conviction I fell asleep and in my sleep I started seeing images. Instead of blocking them, as we are trained to do, I let these images play out and just relaxed and watched them. My thoughts took me to George Floyd during his murder. I heard him cry out for his mother. Crying for his deceased mother to please save him. I my minds ongoing movie I saw myself hear his call and there and them I became his mother. I claimed him as mine. My arms spread out like featherless wings and the tips of my fingers touched upon the tips of other women’s featherless wings until we locked together in our defense of George, while we responded to to his call for help. His call ignited mom’s all over the planet to scream in pain at his loss of life. We, his million mom’s, will never be the same, or whole, because of his loss. Dreams can be strange and very revealing.
Murder is very personal because it carries intent. Death is a given but murder happens at the hand of an executioner that end’s someone else’s time. This makes it very personal. The dead remain dead endlessly and forever. The pain, sorrow and loss that murder brings upon the living left behind can never be told or shared in words. It’s endless. A bottomless pit. Survivors, therefore survive, but develop another persona in the back of their minds and hearts. This secret place allows the survivor to continue to interact with their lost loves. Advertising slogans say ” The gift that keeps on giving.” Well murder is the horror that keeps burning in your mind and soul forever. Do murderers understand the enormity of their atrocity? Maybe some do, hardly any, I dare guess.
Some people believe in the connectivity of all living creatures. Like a Chagall painting where spirits form a dance, touching each other in a circle. We may be dog, a bird, or wearing our business suit but our essence could very well be dancing this dance of life and death. Maybe we each have an expiration date, both genetic and spiritual but the natural order of life is gravely damaged when someone commits murder, interrupting our natural dance.
George Floyd’s murder was an extraordinary event. We witnessed, first hand a violent, ruthless act of murder. We saw a man, in the pinnacle of his life, being terminated, murdered. We heard his struggle to live. Then he called us to save him. He became our child. Our son. By some act to magic this stranger became ours. We looked upon him with the love of our child and his pain became ours. Connected to him and each other we remained and fought even if we could not bring him back to life. At the very least we could claim is as ours. We each gained and lost a son from one moment to the next. We keep pictures of him to get to know him better. Our lost son.
We have done everything that we could to to remain connected and claim justice to our George. The fact remains that our son is still dead. If our connectivity remains beyond our biological lives he may, maybe, know that he called us, his mother, and we came. We love and miss you son.
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