<p>I was born Leslie wills, living at number 12 brook street, one of 5 children and grew up with a terribly poor back ground, my parents struggled in life to put food on the table due to lack of income and as much as I loved them both dearly they failed to look after all their children despite their efforts. I wouldn&rsquo;t be lying if I told you there was many of nights I remember going to bed hungry as a child due to my father drinking away the family money and blaming his addiction on the pressures of life. We lived in the town of Stoke on Trent in a small two bedroom town house in the area of longton. Thirty three years later I&rsquo;m still here, not through my own choice but due to unfortunate circumstance. Let&rsquo;s just say I never really felt like I had the same chances as my older siblings. As we all got older one by one my brothers left the nest leaving there younger siblings to cope with the remaining broken family that was left. By the time I hit the age of 18I was the last child still currently living at home, my father died shortly after from pneumonia after been admitted into hospital for a period of six months leaving me to take care of my mother and the rest of the house. Working solidly at one of the last remaining factories in town for 15 years and no social life I tried my best to provide my mother the best care that my father never could but it was only a matter of time before my mother also passed away. A Heart attack was confirmed to be the cause, here one minute gone the next, and there was nothing anyone could have done for her. I arranged the funeral myself desperately trying many of times to get in contact with the brothers I felt I had lost so many years ago. Leaving message after message on the most recent numbers I had to date which my mother kept in a leather note book in the back of her dresser draw but disappointingly I had no such luck in terms of a reply.</p>
On the day of the funeral as predicted the weather was miserable, I seem to remember it raining all day, and it&rsquo;s strange, it could have been just my state of mind but everything felt grey and gloomy like the whole world had stopped and felt sorrow for my mother&rsquo;s passing. The Funeral took place at the church of ST Andrews a small church just on the outskirts of longton town. Not having anyone else to turn to regarding the funeral arrangements I couldn&rsquo;t help but feel it was the best place for the service, the old Christian building held many dear memories for my mother, her marriage, the christening of all her five children but also the funeral of her own parents, yes she would be happy to rest here, and that gave me great peace of mind. Walking inside The traditional old church of ST Andrews one couldn&rsquo;t help but feel the building was in need of some major repair work, it looked old, unused and had a strong smell off dampness that lingered in the air. Looking up at the ceiling of the church you couldn&rsquo;t help noticing the amount of holes that had been left untamed allowing the rain to leek right through the roof and fall on to the stone floor and wooden benches of the church.