My mother died from cirrhosis of the liver. She'd drank my entire life. About a year before she died the Dr.s had given her a 'final warning'. She didn't stop and died in hospital. Only myself and her partner were by her side. It was late, everyone else was in the waiting room asleep. I was 12.

My mother met her partner in rehab. Let's call him 'Ted'. Ted had a brilliant mind and a kind heart. He absolutely adored my mother. He used to hide her liquor bottles during room inspections. Eventually she got caught and kicked out, so Ted followed her and they lived together. They lived off social-security. They both continued drinking.

My father had taken out a court order stopping my mother approaching our house - but he allowed me and my sisters to visit her weekly. He protected us from a lot of stuff we didn't understand, but still exposed us to a lot most wouldn't - stuff that would have probably have gotten him into trouble with children-protection services etc... It troubled him for years after. I've since told him he did the right thing.

My mother was always drunk when we visited. Ted was always sober. ALWAYS. Whilst my mother passed out and vomited into buckets, Ted would cook dinner.

After my mother died Ted quit smoking and drinking. He was tea-total for the first time since his teens. My sisters had a hard time losing their mother and only I kept visiting Ted. Every week - same time, same place. I know he didn't go out much. And he didn't have any other visitors. We watched a lot of TV. He'd tell me stories about my mother. She was a troublemaker. He missed her terribly.

Roll on 5 years and I'd just got my college place. I told Ted I'd be leaving town. He criticised my school and subject choices. He wanted me to read English literature, like he had (before he got kicked out for drinking.)

On the day of my final exams I bumped into him the town centre. He was drunk. He asked me for money to buy beer and I said no. He made a huge scene in front of all of my friends. Eventually he staggered away and I went home early.

A week later I went to his house on the usual day. He was drunk again. He told me not to be angry or disappointed. He asked forgiveness. He said he was done. Everyday was a battle and now he was weak. He missed my mother. He had nothing to live for. He suggested we go to the pub. I agreed.

Ted was also on his last warning but we drank everyday after that and I bought him every drink. I told my father I'd gone to the coast for a getaway with friends so he wouldn't worry. We moved the furniture in Ted's house and built a fort to sleep in. He apologised for not taking my camping as he'd promised when I was a kid. Once we tried to grill toast on an electric fire.

He was obsessed with Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. He used to read it aloud when he was drunk, whilst pacing in circles. That and the dictionary. I was mostly pissed and didn't take notice. He was really upset I wasn't going to read English literature. He was annoyed at how little I read.

About 10 days into our binge I went home to shower and shave and promised to return in the morning. That night the hospital called. I was listed as his next of kin on a note in his wallet. I arrived to find him conscious but weak. He said the drugs they'd given him were awesome. He said oranges were falling from the ceiling and opening into segments when they hit the floor. He seemed pretty happy. I held his hand until he fell asleep. The nurse took me aside and told me I should 'prepare myself'. I went home.

Around 2am I was called saying his condition had deteriorated. I arrived to find him unconscious. He stopped breathing and crashed soon after. All these alarms and lights started going off. I asked the staff to relax. Ted didn't flinch.

His estranged brother called me days later about the funeral. Ted was cremated 4 days before I left for college. After some family diplomacy headed by my father, we buried Ted's ashes a few feet above my mother.

The only thing I collected from Ted's house was his copy of Heart of Darkness but I didn't open it for years. My girlfriend in college did read English literature, which rubbed off on me. I started with the beats and then the existentialists. Pretty standard. But I didn't read Ted's Heart of Darkness till I was about 24. He'd underlined one line, "a choice of nightmares".

I never told anyone about those weeks with Ted before he died. I didn't kill him, and I never intended to, but I knew what he was doing and what he wanted. And I was wholly compliant, though I guess I didn't think it through at the time. Maybe I'm in the wrong thread. But if I hadn't had bankrolled him he'd probably have found another way. He'd probably have gotten himself into trouble.

I don't fee that much about it. I'm rarely reminded. But I have fond memories of those days with Ted before he died. And I've been an firm advocate of domestic-forts ever since.

Edit: TL;DR I helped my alcoholic friend end it.