We knew Grandpa wasn't going to make it much longer than a few weeks when Spring Break started. When we thought we were losing him forever, he finally decided he would have a heart transplant. It was almost too late for him, he really almost didn't qualify anymore. Thus began our journey with the Mayo Hospital in Phoenix, and our almost always weekly visits 3 hours away for the next 8 months to see our Grandpa who we were used to seeing every single day. The Mayo saved his life, and the care he received was in a whole different league than any other place we had taken him before. And we had taken him EVERYWHERE. He never got to come back home to live, and I am grateful he died with hope and dignity, and knowing how much he was loved. He was the best grandpa ever.
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