(Emma's Note: Frank told me he opened this the day of his mother's funeral in July of 1971)
My dearest Frank,
I promised cousin Ellen that I wouldn’t tell this tale until after all involved (except you, of course) had died. You must forgive my absence at this important moment in your life. Hard as I have tried to explain, I’m sure you’ll have questions that cannot now be answered, and need support that I can no longer give. I also know that I have raised you to be a strong, resilient young man, so I do not worry that this news will be too much for you.
You are, as you have always known, our adoptive son. Edmund and I learned a few years after our marriage that we could never have a child together. Although we put a brave face forward to the world, we were devastated. We lived with our grief until, miraculously, Ellen phoned. At the age of 48, she was pregnant and unmarried. She asked if we would take her baby and raise it as our own. We of course, agreed immediately, and promised that the adoption should remain secret as long as we all were alive.
Your father and I tried to make room for Ellen in our lives, and especially in yours. We brought you to Stoney Grove as a child so that you might meet her and have some memory of her, knowing that someday you must learn the truth. Ellen, I believe, was never comfortable with her decision, and was uneasy in your presence. Still, the time you spent together must surely have given you some sense of the woman she was, an intelligent, creative lady that endured great suffering in her life. She did find some comfort, I think, in seeing the friendship that developed between you and Monty.
I wish I could tell you more of your father, Kurt Frank. All I know of him is what I could learn from Ellen. He was a Luftwaffe officer, shot down over the English Channel during the war and imprisoned in East Imbiben. At that time it was common for prisoners to perform labour on neighbouring farms. He and Ellen met when he was on a work detail at Stoney Grove. He was quite a young man, and was engaged to be married. He was freed after the war but elected to stay in England. His village had been occupied by Soviet forces, and he did not want to return. Ellen hired him to work as a farm hand on the estate. Gradually, their friendship deepened and they fell in love. In the fall of 1947, Mr. Frank made contact with some family members living outside of Munich. They urged him to return to Germany. Ellen refused to go with him. She had recently learned she was pregnant, and would not leave England. I don’t believe she ever told him of her condition. And so he departed, thinking that she no longer loved him, and never dreaming he left a son behind.
She named you Frank Thomas Hall, and kept you with her for a few weeks before making the painful decision to give you up. Your father and I adopted you in late June of 1948. You have always made us very proud.
Ellen’s thoughts were with you until the very end of her life. The last time we spoke, she told me to let you know that you would always be a part of Stoney Grove.
And now you must go forward in life, knowing at last a few facts about your origins. May you find joy, peace and wisdom in the future.
Your loving mother,
Mary