The Hart of a Man

THE HART OF A MAN

CHAPTER 1

My earliest memories as a child are very pleasant ones…the street clubs we use to form with the kids on the block, the cool-pops we demolished in the summertime, the girly slumber parties where we told ghost stories all night…all sorts of things.

But, perhaps the fondest of these memories are those that were influenced by the church where I grew up and the man who was the pastor there, my uncle, Rev. Hartman Collins.

It was Wednesday, May 16th.

It was a busy afternoon at work. About 2:30 in the afternoon. It was hard for me to keep my mind on work with the sun shining brilliantly outside for one of the first times in months. I was working on a project and was crunched to meet a tight deadline. I get extremely stressed when I’m under a lot of pressure. So, I thought that sooner or later, I was going to mess something up. In the midst of everything, the phones were ringing off the hook. None of the calls were for me. The majority were for Joann, the executive that I was assisting. However, the constant interruptions made it almost impossible to get anything done.

Finally, the secretary yelled to me. “Sherise, it’s for you. It’s your mother!”

“O.K.” I said automatically. It hadn’t really registered what she had said.

“Sherise, it’s your mother!” Joann emphasized.

“Oh!” It’s long distance, I finally realized.

“Take it in the other room,” Joann told me.

I went back to my own desk and someone else was using my phone. I was growing impatient. Mom had never called me at work before. There had never been any need to. Something was wrong. I could feel it; and something inside of me had already told me what it was. I found a vacant phone.

“Hello, mom?”

“Hi, Sher.” Then, she got straight to the point. “You said for us to let you know if anything happened, and we were expecting it; so, don’t be sad. But, last night, your Uncle Hartman died.”

Died! I hated that word. I wanted to hear anything; but, I didn’t want to hear that.

“Now, I don’t know what you want to do,” Mom went on.

“I want to come home,” I told her without hesitation. “But, I don’t have any money right now. Where’s Dad?”

“Wait.” Mom said. “Here’s your father.” She put Dad on the phone.

“Sher, how you doin’?” Dad asked.

“How are you doing?” I was more concerned about him.

“Oh, I’m doin’ alright. Well, your mother told you. He’s gone on now. So, the funeral is Tuesday. I don’t know if you wanna come home or not.”

“I wanna come home, Dad. Can I put it on your charge card and pay you back later?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. And don’t worry about it.” Dad told me.

“I’ll make the arrangements and let you know when I’m coming.” I said.

“Alright, Sher, we’ll wait to hear from you.”

“Alright. Bye, Dad.” I said, and we both hung up the phone.

I walked back to my work area slowly. I knew it was true; but, I didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t be dead. He wasn’t supposed to die. I didn’t want him to. He was supposed to get better. That’s what I prayed for.

“Is everything alright?” Joann asked when I reached the table.

“No.” I said. “My uncle died.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She was the first to offer her condolences. “Were you close?”

“Very close. He was my father’s only brother. My father’s sister died last year. He doesn’t have any other family now, outside of my mother, my brother and me. My main concern is him. How he’s taking it.”

“Are you going home?” Joann asked me.

“Yes. The funeral is Tuesday. So, I’ll be out a couple of days next week.”

I went to the secretary and told her what happened and asked her to make travel arrangements for me.

The work got done. But, I wasn’t concentrating too well. That night, I did not attend my evening class at the college. Instead, I went home to battle with my feelings, alone.

I tried hard not to cry. Mom had said that he was at peace now. He had gone on to be with the Lord. It was the end of all his suffering.

Gone on to be with the Lord? I wanted to scream. God had all the saints from the beginning of time up there at His disposal. What did He need with my uncle?