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

It was liberating to calculate my expenses based solely on my own needs and desires.

“You can also invest part of your savings in the Swiss economy,” Herr Müller continued.

“The returns are stable and secure. In five years, you could double your net worth if you invest wisely.”

Double my net worth? How many times had I had that opportunity but had preferred to spend the money on my daughter’s whims?

“There is something else I should tell you,” the adviser added.

“We have many clients in situations similar to yours. Older people who have come to Switzerland seeking a new beginning after complicated family relationships. You are not alone in this experience.”

That information comforted me deeply. I wasn’t the only mother who had been manipulated and discarded by ungrateful children.

There was a whole community of people who had chosen their own happiness over the toxic demands of their families.

A New Community and Legal Battles

On Friday morning, I joined a hiking group for senior citizens. There were eight women and four men, all between 60 and 75 years old, all with similar stories of late-life liberation.

We walked along beautiful trails by the lake while sharing our experiences.

“I left my husband after 40 years of marriage,” Maria, a 68-year-old from Spain, told me.

“One day I realized I had been living as his maid for decades, not his wife. It was the best decision of my life.”

“I cut off contact with my three children,” shared Hans, a 70-year-old German man.

“They only called me when they needed money. When I told them I wasn’t going to finance their lives anymore, they called me a selfish father. Now I live in peace and my money is my own.”

Hearing these stories confirmed that I had made the right decision. It wasn’t selfish to prioritize my own happiness; it was a basic need for emotional survival.

That night, while having dinner in my apartment, my phone rang. It was an unknown number, but I decided to answer out of curiosity.

“Mrs. Julieta, this is attorney Garcia. I work with your daughter Rebecca,” said a professional male voice.

“What do you want?” I asked directly.

“Your daughter asked me to contact you because she is very concerned about your well-being. Apparently you have left the country without leaving adequate contact information.”

“I left a very clear letter explaining my departure,” I replied.

“There is nothing illegal in what I have done.”

“Of course not, ma’am. But your daughter is also concerned about some financial decisions you apparently made before you left, specifically regarding the mortgage on her house.”

There was the real reason for the call. Rebecca had sent a lawyer to try to intimidate me into returning.

“All my financial decisions were made in consultation with my own lawyer and are completely within my legal rights,” I explained.

“As a co-signer on that mortgage, I have the right to protect my interests when I believe there is a risk of non-payment.”

“I understand your position, but perhaps we could find a solution that benefits both parties,” the lawyer insisted.

“The only solution that benefits both parties has already been implemented,” I replied firmly.

“I am living in peace away from a toxic relationship, and my daughter is living with the consequences of her actions. It is exactly what we both needed.”

“Mrs. Julieta, with all due respect, I think you are making rash decisions due to a temporary family argument. These things can be fixed with dialogue.”

“Temporary argument?” I repeated in disbelief.

“Is that how Rebecca told you what happened? Did she tell you she wished me dead as a birthday gift?”

There was an awkward silence on the other end of the line. “I believe there are misunderstandings that can be cleared up,” the lawyer murmured.

“There are no misunderstandings. There is a daughter who used and manipulated her mother for decades, and a mother who finally woke up and decided to live for herself. End of story.”

I hung up the phone feeling powerful. Every day that passed in Switzerland, every day away from Rebecca’s constant demands, I felt stronger and more certain of my decision.

My daughter had asked me to disappear from her life, and I had granted her that wish. What she hadn’t calculated was the real price of losing me forever.

On Saturday morning, I decided to do something I had been putting off for years. I visited an art gallery in downtown Zurich.

For decades, I had wanted to take painting classes, but there was always an emergency with Rebecca that required my time or my money.

Now, for the first time, I could dedicate a full day to something that brought me pleasure without feeling guilty.

I was admiring a painting of the Swiss Alps when my phone vibrated. This time it wasn’t Rebecca; it was a number I recognized immediately: my old job at the hospital.

I answered, intrigued. “Julieta, this is Dr. Martinez,” said the familiar voice of the woman who had been my boss for the last 10 years of my career.

“I just received the strangest call from your daughter. She says you’ve disappeared and wanted to know if we knew anything.”

“I haven’t disappeared,” I replied calmly.

“I’ve simply moved and started a new life.”

“Really? That’s wonderful! I always thought you deserve to enjoy your retirement without so many family worries,” the doctor said with genuine joy.

“May I ask where you are?”

“In Switzerland,” I replied, surprised at how natural it sounded to say.

“I’m exploring the possibility of staying permanently.”

“Switzerland! What an exciting adventure! I’m so happy to hear you’re finally doing something for yourself.”

Dr. Martinez had witnessed many occasions where I had to miss work or cancel extra shifts because Rebecca needed something urgently.

She, better than anyone, understood the constant sacrifice that being Rebecca’s mother had entailed.

“But Julieta,” she continued.

“Your daughter sounded quite desperate. She asked me that if I spoke with you, to tell you it’s a family emergency.”

“Did she tell you what the emergency was?” I asked with curiosity.

“Something about financial problems and the children needing you,” the doctor replied.

“But honestly, after hearing her demands on the phone, it sounded more like manipulation than a real emergency.”

It was comforting to know that people who knew us both could clearly see the toxic dynamic that had existed between Rebecca and me for years.

“Thank you for calling me, Doctor. And don’t worry, there’s no real emergency,” I assured her.

After hanging up, I decided to turn my phone off completely for the rest of the weekend. I needed mental space to process everything I was experiencing and to make important decisions about my future.

On Sunday, I joined a group tour to visit the mountain villages around Zurich. It was a group of 12 people, mostly retirees like me, all seeking adventure and new experiences.

During the bus ride, I struck up a conversation with a woman named Ingrid, a 71-year-old German woman who had arrived in Switzerland two years earlier.

“What brought you here?” she asked, as we admired the scenery from the window.

“A daughter who told me her biggest birthday wish was for me to die,” I replied without a filter.

I no longer had the energy to sugarcoat reality. Ingrid looked at me with wide eyes.

“Really?”

“Completely serious. After financing her house, practically raising her children, and sacrificing my retirement for her needs, she told me that my presence in her life was an unbearable burden.”

“My God,” Ingrid murmured.

“And what did you do?”

“What she asked me to do. I disappeared from her life, and here I am.”

Ingrid smiled with admiration. “You are very brave. It took me five years to make the decision to walk away from my toxic family. My son and daughter-in-law treated me like an ATM with legs.”

For the rest of the day, Ingrid and I shared our stories.

She had come to Switzerland after realizing that her adult children only contacted her when they needed money for their vacations, their new cars, or their whims.

When she decided to set boundaries, they accused her of being a selfish mother and threatened to not let her see her grandchildren.

“The first few months were difficult,” Ingrid confessed as we walked through a medieval town.

“The guilt was eating me alive. I thought maybe I really was selfish, that a good mother should always sacrifice for her children.”

“And what changed your perspective?” I asked.

“I realized that my children never wondered if I was happy, if I had enough money for my own needs, or if my constant sacrifices were hurting me. They only cared about what I could give them. That’s not love, Julieta. That’s exploitation.”

Her words resonated deeply in my heart. For decades, I had mistaken emotional manipulation for filial love, and constant demands for a genuine need.

Truth, Consequences, and Rebirth

That night in my apartment, I decided to turn on my phone for the first time in several days. I had 62 missed calls and 47 text messages, most from Rebecca and Hugo, but there were also some from unknown numbers.

I read the text messages chronologically, observing the evolution of my daughter’s panic.

The first ones were still emotional: “Please Mom, please come back. We need you. The kids are crying for you.”

But gradually they became more desperate and financial: “The bank has scheduled a meeting with us for Friday. They say that as the co-signer, you have the right to take the house. They can’t take our home over a misunderstanding.”

By the fifth day, the messages had turned aggressive: “This is ridiculous, Mom. You’re ruining our lives over a tantrum. Act like an adult and come back.”

And finally, desperate: “I’ve called all the hospitals, the police, your friends. Nobody knows where you are. If something happens to you, it’s going to be my fault. Please just tell me you’re okay.”

It was fascinating to observe how, at no point, did Rebecca genuinely apologize for wishing me dead.

At no point did she acknowledge the cruelty of her words or express real remorse. Everything revolved around the negative consequences my absence had for her.

I decided to reply one last time. “I am perfectly fine and happier than I have been in years. What you are experiencing now are the natural consequences of your actions. I hope this experience helps you understand the value of the people you love before it’s too late with others in your life.”

The reply came immediately. “Please Mom, we can fix this. I promise I will never say horrible things again. Just come back.”

I wrote my final response. “Empty promises don’t mend broken hearts, Rebecca. The words you said to me revealed what you really think of me. You can’t take back that truth with desperate promises.”

After sending that message, I blocked her number and all numbers associated with Hugo. I also blocked the unknown numbers that had been calling me.

It was time to close that chapter for good.

On Monday morning, I met again with Herr Müller to sign the papers that would allow me to reside permanently in Switzerland.

I also made arrangements to permanently transfer my American pension and begin the process of selling my apartment in my hometown.

“Are you sure you want to make this permanent?” Herr Müller asked me.

“It’s a very big decision.”

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” I replied, signing each document with a steady hand.

“For the first time in decades, I am making decisions based on my own happiness, not on the demands of others.”

That afternoon I received a call from Elvira, my neighbor and accomplice. Her voice was excited.

“Julieta, you have to hear this,” she said.

“Rebecca came to my apartment yesterday crying hysterically. She begged me to tell you to come back, that it was all a terrible misunderstanding.”

“And what did you tell her?” I asked.

“I told her the truth. That what she had said to you was unforgivable, and that if I were you, I would have disappeared forever too. You should have seen her face when she realized that even the neighbors knew how cruel she had been to you.”

“Did she mention anything about the financial problems?” I asked with curiosity.