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

It was a strange mix of feelings I experienced. I didn’t feel joy at their suffering, but I did feel a deep satisfaction of justice.

For the first time in their lives, Rebecca and Hugo were experiencing the real consequences of their decisions without having someone to rescue them.

“There’s something else,” Elvira continued.

“Rebecca asked me if I knew how to contact you. She said she wants to apologize for real, that she finally understands everything she lost when you left.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I told her that some wounds are too deep to heal and that some words can never be taken back. I also told her that you are thriving in your new life and that it’s probably better for both of you if she doesn’t try to contact you.”

Elvira was right. Over these six months, I had built an inner peace that I didn’t want to risk for empty promises from a daughter who had repeatedly shown that she only valued me when she needed me.

That afternoon, I received an unexpected call from my lawyer, Anselmo.

“Julieta, I have some interesting news,” he said.

“Rebecca’s house has now been sold by the bank. And since you were the co-signer, you have the right to recover your initial investment of $150,000 plus accrued interest.”

“How much is that in total?”

“$185,000. The bank has already approved the transfer. The money will be in your Swiss account next week.”

It was incredible. Not only had I recovered my original investment, but I had gained an additional $35,000.

Money that would have been lost forever if I had continued to be the ever-sacrificing mother.

“There’s something else, too,” Anselmo continued.

“Your apartment in your hometown has finally sold. After commissions and expenses, the net amount is $95,000.”

In total, I was receiving almost $300,000 from assets I had written off as lost.

With my existing savings and the investments I had made in Switzerland, my total net worth now exceeded $500,000.

At 72 years old, I was richer than I had ever been in my life.

That night I celebrated at my favorite restaurant by the lake. I ordered French champagne and toasted to the brave woman who had had the courage to start over when all seemed lost.

As I dined, I thought about the entire journey.

I had begun this journey as a broken and humiliated mother, devastated by the cruel words of an ungrateful daughter.

But now I was an independent, financially stable woman, surrounded by genuine friends and living the life I had always dreamed of.

The next day I decided to do something I had been considering for weeks: write a full book about my experience.

Not just my story, but a practical guide for older women who were trapped in toxic family relationships.

I contacted a Swiss publisher that specialized in self-help and personal growth books. The editor, a woman named Brigit, was immediately interested.

“Julieta,” she said during our meeting.

“Your story touches on a subject that affects millions of women but is rarely spoken of openly. Emotional abuse by adult children is an epidemic problem that needs to be exposed.”

I spent the next three months writing, “When Love Hurts: Freeing Yourself from Family Emotional Abuse After 70.”

The book documented not only my personal experience, but also practical strategies for recognizing manipulation, setting healthy boundaries, and finding the courage to prioritize one’s own well-being.

The book was published eight months later and became a bestseller in several European countries.

The letters I received from readers were incredible. Women from all over the world wrote to me, telling me how my story had given them the courage to make radical changes in their own lives.

“I read your book and finally understood that I’m not a bad mother for refusing to continue financing my 35-year-old son’s irresponsibility,” wrote Maria from Spain.

“Your story helped me understand that true love does not require self-destruction,” wrote Carmen from Mexico.

“After reading your book, I sold my large house and moved to a small apartment I can afford without depending on my children’s help. For the first time in years, I sleep in peace,” shared Rosa from Argentina.

But the letter that moved me the most arrived a year after the book’s publication. It was from a young mother named Andrea.

“Mrs. Julieta,” she wrote.

“I am 30 years old and have a 65-year-old mother who has sacrificed her entire life for me and my siblings. After reading your book, I realized that we are treating her exactly as Rebecca treated you.”

“Your story opened my eyes and made me understand that I was repeating a toxic pattern that could destroy my relationship with my mother forever.”

“Yesterday I called my mom and apologized for all the years of taking her for granted. I also told her that I want to help her fulfill her own dreams instead of expecting her to always be available for mine. Thank you for helping me understand this before it was too late.”

That letter made me cry with joy. My pain had served to prevent other families from going through the same destruction.

Two years after my arrival in Switzerland, I received a physical letter in my mailbox. The handwriting on the envelope was familiar, but I couldn’t immediately place it.

When I opened it, my heart stopped. It was from my grandchildren, now 12 years old.

“Dear Grandma Julieta,” they wrote in childish script.

“Dad told us the truth about why you left. He told us that Mom said very mean things to you and that’s why you decided to start a new life far away from us.”

“We want you to know that we miss you very much and that we understand why you left. We also want you to know that we are proud of you for being so brave. When we are older, we would like to visit you in Switzerland if you want. We love you, Grandma.”

The letter was signed by both twins. It included drawings they had made of me living happily in the Swiss mountains.

I cried for an hour after reading that letter, not from sadness, but from the understanding that my decision to preserve my dignity had been the right one, even if it had meant moving away from people I loved.

I decided to write back to them. “My dearest grandchildren, your words are the most beautiful gift I have received in years. I love you deeply and I always will, no matter the distance.”

“When you are older and can make your own decisions, the doors of my heart and my home will always be open to you. Until then, I want you to know that your grandmother is living a full and happy life surrounded by beauty and peace.”

“Hold on to this love you feel for me, but also learn from this experience. Words have the power to build or to destroy, and relationships are based on mutual respect, not on one-sided sacrifice. I love you with all my heart.”

Today, three years after that terrible birthday that changed my life forever, I am sitting on my balcony in Zurich, looking at the mountains as I write the final lines of my story.

I am 75 years old, with a net worth of over $600,000, a best-selling book, dear friends from all over the world, and an inner peace I thought I would never experience again.

Rebecca asked me for a birthday gift—to disappear from her life. I granted her that wish in the most spectacular way possible.

What she never calculated was that in losing me, she not only lost a mother who loved her unconditionally, but she also lost the person who had kept her financial world stable for decades.

My disappearance was my gift to her. My new life was my gift to myself.

And it was worth every tear, every sacrifice, and every moment of pain that brought me here.

Because sometimes the only way to save yourself is to have the courage to lose yourself completely, only to be reborn as the person you were always meant to be.