In 2005, my husband returned from a scheduled Doctor’s appointment looking agitated and very pale. He said that he wanted to spend his remaining years living in Newfoundland, looking out to Ireland, the land of his ancestors.
Recent medical tests had shown that he had a congenital heart condition, which until now had remained undetected.
He had always been strong, muscular and a talented athlete.
This diagnosis caught us both off guard, but since we now knew that his life may be cut short, it took me only a few minutes to agree that we would move to Newfoundland.
Theology of a Newfoundland Housewife 