My Daughter Earns $215k But I Pay For Her Teslas And Mortgage. When I Cut Her Off To Save Myself From Bankruptcy, She Sued Me For “elder Exploitation.” Am I The Jerk For Choosing My Dream Trip Over Her Luxury Lifestyle?

The message was clear: back off. The calls finally stopped. But the silence was somehow worse.

No more calls meant no more contact at all. There weren’t even the surface-level weekly texts about the kids’ activities. Nothing.

I tried to tell myself this was necessary, that I was doing the right thing. But at night alone in my big house, I wondered if I’d traded my family for my freedom.

A Message from My Granddaughter

Then six weeks after I’d canceled the payments, and two days before I was supposed to leave for Europe, something appeared in my mailbox. It was a handwritten letter. The envelope said “Grandma Linda” in careful 12-year-old cursive.

I sat down on my front steps and opened it with shaking hands.

Dear Grandma Linda, I don’t really understand what’s happening with Mom and Dad and you. They don’t talk about it in front of me and Mason, but we can hear them yelling at night about money and bills and you.

Mom sounds really angry, and Dad sounds really scared. I know you’re not paying for stuff anymore. I heard Mom on the phone with the school; I heard her tell someone that you abandoned us.

But Grandma, I don’t think that’s true because you’re the only one who ever asks about my book reports and remembers that I like strawberry ice cream better than chocolate. Mom showed us this big house we’re going to move to. It’s smaller and there’s no pool, and I have to share a room with Mason, which is going to be the worst.

She said, “We’re downsizing and we all have to sacrifice because you decided to be selfish.” But here’s the thing: I looked up Italy on my computer. It looks really pretty, and I know you always wanted to travel because you told me about it that time we made cookies together.

You said you and Grandpa Robert were going to see the world together, but then he died and you never got to go. I’ve been saving my allowance money; I have $47 now. It’s not a lot, but I want to send it to you for your trip.

Maybe it can buy you gelato or a postcard or something. Please don’t forget about me and Mason. We still love you even if Mom and Dad are mad. Your granddaughter, Olivia.

P.S. I think you should go. I think you should do all the things you dreamed about. You’re not that old yet. P.S. Can you bring me back a souvenir? Maybe something purple because that’s my favorite color.

I read it three times, tears streaming down my face. Then I went inside, pulled out my good stationery, and wrote back.

Dearest Olivia, your letter meant more to me than you could possibly know. Thank you for understanding, even when the situation is confusing and the adults around you are angry. You’re right; I did want to travel with your grandpa, and I never got the chance.

Life is short, sweet girl, and sometimes we have to choose ourselves. That doesn’t mean we love other people less; it means we love ourselves enough to live the life we’re meant to live. I’m not abandoning you; I will never abandon you.

But I also can’t keep enabling your parents to live beyond their means. Someday when you’re older, I hope you’ll understand the difference. Keep your $47; save it for something you really want.