Why couldn't we save him?

Michael Jackson - the King of Pop - died on June 25th, 2009. Finally some measure of justice has been netted because his doctor, Conrad Murray, was found guilty of involuntary manslaughter. He'll be given his sentence on my birthday, 11/29/11.
Bobby died that same year as Michael Jackson. He was my grandson and was only 12 years old. Where will the justice come for him?
He was born with a heart defect and stayed in the hospital for almost 6 months of his newborn life. He received heart surgery even though he was feverish. Doctors wanted him to be healthier and bigger but it wasn't happening. I visited him almost every day while he was there.
He had to use a feeding tube when he was finally allowed to come home. Was I ever scared to feed him? You bet, but it was more important to be a part of his life. In spite of all his difficulties, he was pretty happy. He did have asthma though.
We'd babysit in our home and Grandpa made him laugh hysterically. Grandpa created goofy faces,  wierd sounds, or the ultimate gesture, a skewered salute, and Bobby would almost fall to the floor. His whole face crinkled up, his eyes became tiny slits and his head would be tilted to the side with whole-hearted enjoyment.
He loved firemen and at first he'd draw pictures of their trucks and clothes. Eventually he talked us into taking a tour of the station. Now he could draw the bunks, kitchen and poles too! As he gradually perfected his store of information, 9/11 happened to change his life.
He saw those images on TV. Who can really tell the impact they could make on a small child? He constantly talked about it, drew pictures of it and started writing his stories.
They were truly impressive. All kinds of books with diagrams and dialogue. He wrote about the family, his uncles and aunts and my favorite,  "Bobby in Wonderland."
We had him read the entire story during our traditional Thanksgiving celebration. While sitting at the kitchen table, Bobby took out his book and read out loud. The room was totally quiet as he clearly read to an enraptured audience of aunts, uncles and cousins. For a child who was diagnosed as possibly autistic and definitely learning disabled, Bobby poured his heart out, reading with passion and maturity beyond his ten years.
My daughter and I had "Bobby days" during out summer break. They shared an album of him with each Bobby day recorded for future reference. He'd draw a summary of what occured that day and Shenel would take pictures of him. All went into that album. I'll never forget his favorite Bobby Day. After a day of outdoor action we split up for a bit with Bobby going across the street to his aunt's home. I wanted to check my email or some such nonsense.
All of a sudden the house shook with an explosion coming from the street. The sewer cap blew up into the air almost landing on one of the neighbors. I was in a panic, worrying about my grandson and daughter across the street.
Shenel called 911. Bobby exclaimed, "You're calling the firemen to come here?"
It seemed to take only a minute before they arrived. Bobby was in his glory. To have the fire department come to him?? Outstanding! We took some great pictures of him with plenty of action that day!
After that summer I didn't see as much of him as I should have. His father and I were embroiled in this battle over the presidential elections - Dino was a Republican at that time. I was a Democrat. We got into stupid arguments and emailed each other ridiculous stories that damaged our relationship. That Christmas I didn't even give Bobby and Nathan their gifts. We usually had our private celebration at Dino's home after all of us finished visiting my sister's home.
That year I noticed that Bobby didn't have much energy, except to eat his favorite food - my spinach pie. He was probably already feeling the discomfort that was to eventually end his life. Looking back to that time now, I realize he was extremely tired and listless. We attributed it to asthma. It was rougher for him than usual.
I gave their gifts to Sara, my younger daughter. She was babysitting with them later that week and gave them the gifts in my behalf.
When Nathan's birthday came in February, we were invited over for a celebration. Things were getting better between Dino and me. My daughter-in-law, wise in so many ways, had this small celebration and hoped it would heal the rift between us. We hugged and had amazing conversations. Shenel took pictures of the kids with Isabel, my new granddaughter. Bobby was crazy about her!
That was the last time I saw him alive.
On March 7th, 2009, he had heart failure. His asthma probably hid or actually was, a heart condition.
 I have a hard time talking about the many details surrounding his death. Seeing him, lifeless, in the hospital - the beautiful service at their church, the pot-luck dinner with family and friends - all of it is a haze.
His school and especially his class had a celebration of his life and planted a tree in his honor.
Since my youngest daughter Sara also has what we thought was severe asthma, we decided to pursue the heart condition that might also be afflicting her.
It turns out she has hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It mimics asthma and is the enlarged heart condition that kills so many young athletes.
So, Bobby saved her life. Why couldn't we save his??