On Friday, a friend in England had to bury her dead daughter.

It is beside the point that she is in her seventies and her daughter, Jane, had not long turned 50.

As a parent, I cannot begin to imagine the pain and grief of seeing a child suffer and having them die in your arms, however grown up they might be.

I am no good at sympathy cards. When I got the news, I could not find the words. As much as I feared hearing her heartbreak, I called instead.

I listened, we cried. She spoke of the regret, the horrors of the final weeks, the tragedy of timing, the hopes we cling to, and loved ones left trying to stay afloat in the wake.

Jane was a mother of three, her youngest now in college. She had a husband who loved her, a nice house in a quiet country village and a job.

Jane also had a drinking problem. Of course no one knew this, or was willing to admit it.

The glass of wine with dinner had, over time, increased to two, then three, then “might as well finish the bottle”, then, “go on, let’s open a second”.

It was shrugged off as ‘just winding down after a hard day’.

“Mum’s in a bad mood again,” just became more frequent.

It wasn’t until Christmas four years ago that her mother noticed it seemed that any excuse would mean, “let’s have a drink to celebrate!” no matter the time of day.

And that Jane was drinking two for the one everyone else had. She called her on it.

Jane shot back with fury. “It’s Christmas, can’t I enjoy myself?! You’re a party pooper!”

After the holidays, Jane withdrew and stopped answering her mum’s calls. She made excuses not to accept her invitations, stopped going to family functions.

Though they lived walking distance from each other, Jane avoided her mother for over a year.

During which time, as the grandchildren (confused by their mum’s strange behaviour) reported, the drinking was getting worse.

Jane left her job. Said she didn’t like it. It turned out she wasn’t performing well, work was sloppy and she kept taking breaks and disappearing off (taking quick slugs of wine to make the day more interesting and get her through the drudge).

No one knew what to do.

At last, one day, she just turned up on her mother’s doorstop and said: “I need help”.

And so began their journey: on the wagon, off the wagon, counselling, medical intervention …

Finally she was ready to give up drinking for good, but unfortunately for Jane (and those who love her) the damage had already been done.

About a year ago, her major organs started failing. Her body seemed to be shutting down.

Doctors did all they could, including inducing a coma for weeks, to give her a chance to heal.

The prognosis was grim but Jane kept fighting and kept surprising everyone. Mum and family were down at the hospital every day, cheering her on.

Things looked up, she was putting on weight, feeling better, the doctors released her and her mum took her home to nurse her to health.

She spent three months recovering, going on outings (Jane in a wheelchair), catching up on lost time, laughing together in way that they hadn’t done for years.

Her daughter was back.

Until one night, in the wee hours, she heard Jane up.

She put on the light to see her standing in the doorway, covered in vomited blood — the linings of her arteries had corroded away over time from the drink.

Rushed back to hospital, she lost nine pints of blood as the emergency team desperately tried to pump it in as fast as it was spewing out.

The next three months saw more ups and downs as the whole family endured the rollercoaster of ‘will she or won’t she’ pull through.

Eventually her liver stopped working altogether.

Jane’s body filled with so much fluid that her skin was splitting.

Following emergency surgery last week, with her mother holding her hand, Jane eventually let go.

My friend has lost her daughter, her children their mother.

A sad story with a terrible ending. I don’t write it to depress or scare monger, or put anyone off their morning coffee.

Instead because it could just as easily be my story, or any of us. It all began innocently enough. Jane never intended on becoming an alcoholic.

In a culture where so much of our socialising can revolve around alcohol, it can be hard to see abuse of it and dependency on it, creeping up on us.

And it can feel even harder to admit when we do.

There is fear of judgment and shame and guilt so it seems easier to maintain denial. There is also fear about having to give it up.

In college I dated a guy, who at the age of 26 had the courage to admit he was alcohol dependent.

He went to a few AA meetings, I went with him, but he couldn’t make it stick.

He eventually said that he was just ‘too young’. Even approaching it ‘sober just for today’, he kept envisaging the rest of his long life stretching out, without another drink.

It was too unfair. He said he couldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready to quit.

And as much as we love someone in that situation, we can’t do it for them. We can’t nag or bully or guilt-trip a person into recovery.

We also can’t expect them to sober up without real help, treatment, ongoing support and new habits.

There are different types of treatment available.

But it all starts with recognising there is a problem or even a potential problem.

Feeling ashamed or guilty about our drinking habits, hiding it from others or lying about it, can be signs that there is an issue.

If family or friends have mentioned your drinking, if work is becoming affected, if you need a drink in order to relax or feel better.

And if you have to drink more now than before to get that same buzz … it’s worth looking into.

Laughing off the negative consequences of drinking, blaming others for your drinking, complaining that everyone’s getting on your case about ‘having a couple beers’ … can all indicate someone may be stuck in denial about a problem.

There are people to help. There is information about resources and help online, or through your doctor.

Also the EAP benefit, offered by many employers through organisations like Benedict Associates, was originally designed to specifically help employees with alcohol and substance abuse issues.

It has, of course, expanded infinitely since then to coach and counsel on all aspects of life, but if you suspect you or a loved one might have a drinking problem, it’s still a good place to start.

We have links to services and treatments available and can help plan the best way forward.

The sooner we can face the issue, the better.

Please, don’t let this be your story. Start now and let’s write a better ending.

My love to B, and deepest condolences to all Jane’s family.

Julia Pitt is a trained Success Coach and certified NLP practitioner on the team at Benedict Associates. For further information contact Julia on (441) 705-7488, www.juliapittcoaching.com.