There was one other thing Rudolph pulled out of the hole in the floor of the cellar. It was an envelope with his name on it.
He waited until he got home to open it.
That night, when he finally had a moment to himself, he opened the envelope. Inside was a letter his father had written to him the morning before he died.
Rudolph read the letter and finally fully forgave his father. It was a simple note, really, but Rudolph knew his father meant every word.
Saturday, December 7, 1991
Rudolph, my son,
I know when your mother and I agreed not to have children, and that I tried to kill your mother when she was pregnant with you.
When you were first born, I realized that I was wrong. I knew I wanted to, still want to, care for you. I love you, my dear child.