My Daughter Said: “The Best Gift Would Be If You Just Died” – So I Immediately Canceled the Funding.

Toasting to myself was something completely new, but it felt incredibly liberating. I picked up my phone and dialed a number I had saved for months but had never dared to use.

It was for a travel agency specializing in retirees that offered packages for living abroad.

“Good evening. This is Julieta Morales,” I said when they answered.

“I saw your promotion about living in Switzerland. Could you send me complete information?”

“Of course, Mrs. Morales. Switzerland is a very popular destination among our clients. We have several programs from temporary stays to permanent residency. What kind of information do you need?”

“Everything,” I replied without hesitation.

“I want to know everything about how a 72-year-old person can start a new life in Switzerland.”

After hanging up, I stared out the window at the city where I had lived my entire life. Soon, all of this would be just a memory.

My daughter had asked for my disappearance as a birthday gift, and I was going to grant it to her in the most spectacular way possible.

What Rebecca didn’t know was that her wish was about to become her worst nightmare.

The following days were a roller coaster of emotions and secret preparations. Each morning I woke with a mix of pain and determination that pushed me forward with my plan.

It was as if I had awakened from a long slumber where I had lived solely to please my daughter. And now I was finally living for myself.

On Wednesday morning, my phone rang. It was Rebecca.

For a moment, my heart raced thinking that maybe she had reconsidered, that perhaps she was going to apologize for the terrible words she had said to me. How naive I still was.

“Mom,” she said in that cold voice she had adopted lately.

“I need you to do me a favor.”

Not even a hello or how are you? Straight to the point as if I were her personal employee.

“What do you need?” I asked, curious to see how far her audacity would go.

“The twins have a presentation at school on Friday, and Hugo and I have an important work dinner. Could you watch them that night?”

The irony was delicious. The same woman who had wished me dead as a birthday gift was now asking me to babysit her children as if nothing had happened, as if I were a resource available 24 hours a day.

“I can’t,” I replied simply.

“What do you mean you can’t?” she asked with genuine surprise.

She was clearly not used to me saying no. “I have other plans,” I lied with a smile she couldn’t see.

“What plans could you possibly have?” she asked with a condescending tone that deeply wounded me.

As if at 72 years old I had no right to a life of my own. “Plans that are none of your business,” I replied, staying calm.

“Find another babysitter.”

“But Mom, I can’t find a babysitter on such short notice. Besides, since when do you charge me to watch your own grandchildren?”

There it was—the emotional manipulation she had used on me for years. But this time it wasn’t going to work.

“Since you told me that my greatest gift to you would be for me to die,” I responded coldly.

“If you want me to disappear from your life, I’m starting now.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Rebecca let out a sarcastic laugh.

“Are you seriously going to punish me like a pouting child?” she said.

“I thought you’d be over the drama after a few days.”

“It’s not drama, Rebecca. It’s respect for your wish. You wanted me to disappear, so that’s what I’ll do.”

“Fine,” she said with annoyance.

“If you want to be that childish, be my guest. But don’t come crying to me later when you feel lonely.”

She hung up without saying goodbye. Perfect.

Every interaction confirmed I was making the right decision. That afternoon I went to the bank again.

This time to do something I never thought I would do: withdraw most of my savings in cash. It was $30,000 that I put in an envelope and stored in my personal safe.

The money I would need for my new life in Switzerland. I also called the travel agency and confirmed my trip.

A flight to Zurich for next Tuesday with the option to extend my stay indefinitely. The initial cost was $8,000.

Money I paid without blinking. It was the most expensive and smartest investment I had made in years.

On Thursday morning, I received an unexpected visit. It was my neighbor Elvira, a 68-year-old woman who lived in the apartment next door and with whom I had developed a friendship over the last five years.

“Julieta,” she said, sitting in my living room with a cup of coffee.

“You seem different these days. Has something happened?”

Elvira had been a silent witness to all my sacrifices for Rebecca. She had seen me cancel plans with her to go running whenever my daughter needed me.

She had seen the bags of expensive food I bought to take to Rebecca while I ate canned soups to save money. I told her everything—every painful detail of what had happened on Rebecca’s birthday and also all the plans I had been making during the week.

“My God, Julieta,” Elvira murmured, her eyes filled with tears.

“I can’t believe Rebecca said something so cruel to you after everything you’ve done for her.”

“The worst part is she said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world,” I explained.

“As if I were a nuisance in her life that needed to be eliminated.”

“And you’re really going to go to Switzerland?”

“Yes,” I replied firmly.

“I’ve already bought the ticket. I’m leaving on Tuesday.”

Elvira took my hands warmly. “You know you have my full support, right? What Rebecca did to you is unforgivable.”

“There’s something else,” I said, lowering my voice.

“I’m going to need your help with something very important.”

I explained my entire plan to her—how I wanted Rebecca to believe I had actually died, at least for a while. Elvira would be my accomplice, the person who would find my empty apartment and my farewell letter.

“It’s brilliant,” Elvira murmured with a mischievous smile.

“That ungrateful girl is finally going to understand what it means to lose you.”

“Will you help me?”

“Of course I will. In fact, I think it’s exactly what Rebecca needs to wake up.”

The Great Escape to Zurich

That night I worked on the most important letter of my life. The letter that Rebecca would find on her table and that would change everything forever.

I wrote and rewrote every word, making sure it conveyed exactly what I wanted to say.

“My dearest Rebecca,” the letter began.

“You asked me for your birthday gift to disappear from your life, and I have decided to grant your wish. By the time you read this letter, I will be far from here, starting the life I should have lived years ago instead of sacrificing it all for you.”

I continued writing for hours, documenting every penny I had spent on her, every sacrifice I had made, every opportunity I had lost by always being available for her needs.

But it wasn’t a bitter letter; it was an educational one. I wanted her to understand exactly what she had lost.

“Along with this letter, you will find all the legal documents I have signed this week,” I continued writing.

“The change to my will, the cancellation of your health insurance that I was paying for, the notification that as a co-signer on your mortgage I have decided to exercise my rights due to Hugo’s job instability, and the cancellation of all financial benefits you received from me.”

It was a 23-page letter that meticulously detailed everything that was going to change in her life now that I had disappeared as she wished.

“Your life will be much easier without me,” the letter concluded.

“But it will also be much more expensive. I hope it’s worth it.”

On Friday night, as I packed my most important belongings into two suitcases, I received a call from Rebecca. I didn’t answer.

She called three more times, but I just let the phone ring. I had nothing left to say to her.

The next day, Saturday, Hugo showed up at my door. He looked exhausted and desperate.

“Julieta,” he said in a pleading voice.

“Rebecca told me what happened between you. I know what she said was wrong, but please don’t do this to our family.”

“Do what?” I asked, feigning innocence.

“Stop helping us, withdrawing from our lives like this. The kids need you. We need you.”

How interesting. When Rebecca wanted to get rid of me, I was a nuisance.

But when they realized everything I did for them, suddenly they needed me.

“Hugo,” I said calmly.

“Your wife was very clear with me. My presence in her life is a burden she no longer wants to bear. I am only respecting her wishes.”

“But Julieta, you know how Rebecca is when she gets angry. She didn’t mean it.”

“Oh no? Because she seemed very serious when she wished me dead as a birthday gift.”

Hugo lowered his head. He knew he had no arguments to defend the indefensible.

“Please,” he insisted.

“Give me a chance to fix this. I’ll talk to Rebecca. I’ll make her understand how wrong she is.”

“It’s too late for that,” I replied slowly, closing the door.

“Give my grandchildren a kiss from me.”

Sunday was my last day in that city. I spent the morning walking through the places that had been important in my life.

The hospital where I had worked for 40 years, the park where I had taken Rebecca as a child, the church where I had married her father.

It was my silent farewell to a life I had lived completely for others. Monday would be the beginning of a life I would finally live for myself.

On Sunday night I couldn’t sleep. Not from nerves or regret, but from a strange excitement I hadn’t felt in decades—the anticipation of an adventure.

At 72 years old, I was about to begin the life I had always dreamed of but never dared to live.

At 5:00 on Monday morning, Elvira knocked on my door as planned. She brought fresh coffee and a conspiratorial smile that filled me with energy.

“Ready for your great escape?” she asked, winking.

“More than ready,” I replied, carrying my two suitcases to the door.

“You have the spare keys to my apartment, right?”

“Here,” she said, showing me the set of keys I had given her the night before.

“And I also have the letter for Rebecca and all the legal documents you’re leaving on her table.”

We had planned everything meticulously. Elvira would wait until Wednesday to go to Rebecca’s apartment and deliver the documents, pretending she had found my apartment empty and had become worried about my disappearance.