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

“Oh yes! She told me that without your help they can’t pay the mortgage, that the bank is pressuring them, that Hugo can’t find a stable job, and that the kids need things for school they can’t afford. Basically, she realized everything you did for them once she lost it.”

It was exactly what I had expected. She didn’t miss me as a person; she missed my function as a financial provider and problem solver.

“Elvira,” I said.

“When anyone asks about me, especially Rebecca, I want you to tell them that I am dead to them because, in a way, it’s true. The Julieta who constantly sacrificed for an ungrateful daughter really died on her birthday.”

“I understand perfectly,” Elvira replied.

“And you know what? I think it’s the best death you could have chosen.”

Three weeks after my arrival in Switzerland, my new life had taken shape in ways I never imagined.

I had enrolled in German classes three times a week, started a watercolor painting course on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and joined a book club for expatriates that met on Sundays.

For the first time in decades, my calendar was filled with activities I had chosen—activities that brought me pleasure and personal growth.

But the most surprising thing was the money. Without Rebecca’s constant financial demands, my savings were not only stable, but they were growing.

The investments I had made with Herr Müller were already showing positive returns. And for the first time, I could calculate my financial future based solely on my own needs.

That Thursday morning, as I was having breakfast at my favorite cafe by the lake, I received a call from an international number I didn’t recognize.

I hesitated to answer, but curiosity got the better of me. “Mrs. Julieta Morales?” a female voice with an American accent asked.

“Yes, this is she. Who’s calling?”

“My name is Sarah Williams. I’m a social worker with the Department of Family Services in your hometown. I’m calling because we’ve received a report concerning your well-being.”

My blood ran cold. “A report? What kind of report?”

“Your daughter Rebecca Morales filed a report alleging that you may be suffering from dementia or cognitive decline, and that you made financial and life decisions that put you at risk. According to her, you disappeared suddenly and are living in precarious conditions abroad.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Rebecca had gone to the extreme of involving social services, inventing a mental illness to invalidate my decisions and force my return.

“Miss Williams,” I replied in a firm voice.

“I am not suffering from dementia or cognitive decline. I am living in Switzerland by my own choice, in a comfortable apartment with excellent medical care, and in a perfect mental state. My daughter’s allegations are completely false.”

“I understand your position, Mrs. Morales, but we need to verify your well-being. Would it be possible to coordinate a medical and psychological evaluation through the American consulate in Switzerland?”

“Of course,” I replied without hesitation.

“I am willing to undergo any evaluation that proves I am in a perfect mental state and that my decisions have been made with complete lucidity.”

After coordinating the details for the evaluation, I hung up the phone feeling a mix of anger and disbelief.

Rebecca had crossed a line from which there was no return. Not only had she wished me dead, but now she was trying to destroy my mental credibility to regain control over my money and my life.

I immediately called my lawyer Anselmo in my hometown.

“Julieta,” he greeted me with concern.

“I’m glad to hear your voice. I’ve had a very interesting week with your daughter.”

“I can imagine. I just spoke with social services. Rebecca is accusing me of dementia.”

“That’s not all,” Anselmo sighed.

“She also hired another lawyer to try to challenge all the legal changes you made before you left. She’s claiming you weren’t in your right mind when you signed them.”

“Can she do that?”

“She can try, but she has no solid legal basis. I have recordings of all our conversations where you clearly demonstrate total lucidity. Besides, the fact that you meticulously planned your departure and are living independently in Switzerland contradicts any allegation of cognitive decline.”

“What else is she doing?”

“She has tried to access your bank accounts claiming concern for your well-being. She also tried to stop the process of reclaiming the house. But since everything is legally backed and she herself signed the documents acknowledging that Hugo lost his job again, she has no valid arguments.”

It was incredible how far Rebecca was willing to go to recover the financial benefits she had lost.

“Anselmo, I want you to prepare a defamation lawsuit against my daughter. Her false allegations about my mental state could affect my reputation and my legal rights.”

“It will be a pleasure,” Anselmo replied with satisfaction.

“After seeing how she has treated you, I think it’s time she faced the legal consequences of her actions.”

Two days later, I went to the American consulate in Zurich for the medical and psychological evaluations.

The American doctor who examined me was an older, experienced man who immediately understood the situation.

“Mrs. Morales,” he said after a thorough three-hour evaluation.

“Not only are you in a perfect mental state, but the decisions you have made demonstrate admirable lucidity and courage. Your daughter is clearly trying to manipulate the legal system to recover financial benefits.”

“Is that going to be officially documented?”

“Absolutely. I am going to send a detailed report to social services explaining that her allegations are unfounded and that you are living independently and healthfully in Switzerland.”

That same afternoon, I received a call from the social worker.

“Mrs. Morales, we have received the medical report from the consulate. It is clear that your daughter’s allegations are baseless. We are going to close the case and notify Rebecca that her reports were unfounded.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Will this remain on record somewhere?”

“Yes, it will be documented that she filed a false report about the well-being of a family member, which can have legal implications if it happens again.”

Perfect. Not only had Rebecca failed in her attempt to invalidate my decisions, but she now had an official record of filing false reports.

That night I decided to do something I had been putting off: write an open letter detailing my entire experience.

Not for Rebecca, but for other mothers who might be living through similar situations of manipulation and emotional abuse by adult children.

I wrote for four hours, documenting every sacrifice I had made, every manipulation I had suffered, and every step I had taken to reclaim my dignity and my life.

It was a 20-page letter I titled, “When a Mother’s Love Becomes Self-Destruction: My Story of Liberation at 72.”

I decided to send the letter to an online blog I had discovered specializing in stories of older women who had found the courage to radically change their lives.

A week later, I received an enthusiastic response from the editor.

“Julieta,” she wrote.

“Your story is powerful and inspiring. We have received hundreds of comments from women who completely identify with your experience. Would you be willing to participate in a video interview for our YouTube channel?”

I accepted immediately. It was time to use my experience to help other women who were trapped in toxic family dynamics.

The interview was published two weeks later and quickly went viral.

Thousands of women shared similar stories of adult children who manipulated them emotionally and exploited them financially. The comments were a catalog of pain and recognition.

“My 40-year-old son lives in my house, doesn’t pay rent, and yells at me when I ask him to look for a job,” one woman wrote.

“My daughter only calls me when she needs money for her vacations, but never has time to visit me when I’m sick,” another shared.

“I thought I was the only mother who felt used by her own children,” confessed a third.

But the most impactful thing came a week after the interview was published. I received an email from an address I recognized immediately: it was Hugo, my former son-in-law.

“Julieta,” he wrote.

“I saw your interview on YouTube. I need you to know that I completely agree with you. What Rebecca said to you was unforgivable and the way she has treated you for years is unacceptable. I have witnessed how she manipulates and uses you, but I never had the courage to confront her because we were so dependent on your financial help.”

He continued: “I want you to know that the kids miss you very much and don’t understand why you don’t come to see them anymore. Rebecca has told them that you are sick and can’t visit, but I believe they deserve to know the truth when they are older.”

The email ended: “I know it’s probably too late for apologies, but I wanted you to know that at least one person in this family recognizes how badly we treated you and how much you sacrificed for us. I hope you are happy in your new life.”

I read the email three times before deciding how to respond. Finally, I wrote:

“Hugo, I appreciate your honesty, but apologies after the fact do not change the harm that was done. I hope this experience helps you to be a better husband and father, and that you teach your children to value the people who love them before it’s too late.”

It was the first time someone from my family had publicly acknowledged the abuse I had suffered.

It didn’t change my decision to stay away, but it did give me a sense of validation I had been needing for years.

My new life in Switzerland was flourishing in ways I never imagined. I had real friends who valued me for who I was, not for what I could give.

I had hobbies and passions that I had rediscovered. I had peace of mind and financial stability. And most importantly, I had dignity.

The Legacy of Liberation

Six months after my arrival in Switzerland, my life had taken a shape I had never dreamed possible.

It was a perfect spring morning when I received a call that would change everything once more. It was Elvira, my dear neighbor and accomplice.

“Julieta,” she said, her voice excited.

“You have to hear this. Rebecca lost the house.”

My heart stopped for a moment. Despite everything, a part of me still worried about the well-being of my grandchildren.

“What happened exactly?” I asked.

“The bank foreclosed last week. Hugo couldn’t find a stable job. They fell behind on payments. And since you are the co-signer and are exercising your legal rights, the bank proceeded with the foreclosure.”

“Rebecca came to me yesterday crying, completely desperate.”

“And the children?”

“They’re fine. They moved to a small apartment on the other side of town. Hugo finally got a job at a factory, earning much less than before, but at least it’s stable. Rebecca had to go back to work, too.”