Raw Draft

Beep beep. My phone went off, with a text message. It had a picture of my grandfather, Tito, at his house sitting in his chair wearing his hat with his smile. Below it my dad told me that it was his birthday. I started to respond, asking him if we were going to call him together. Then I remembered he had died earlier that year.
I started thinking of when I first found out he died. I knew he had been sick for a while, but he lived in Texas and I didn't see him more than once a year so it was hard to see. He liked sitting around and watching old Westerns then. The day he died I got an call from my telling me he died from cancer (technically really the flu but whatever). I didn't have any real response. Over the next few days other people, all related to me in some way, texted or emailed or messaged me about it, telling me how he was a good man and all that. As a rule I usually ignored them if I could, I didn't know how to respond. I didn't do much for the next few days at least, I didn't want to.
Some time later I flew into McAllen International (near the border, has a few hopper flights to Mexico, it's actually a tiny airport) and was driven to where he used to live. Only my grandmother Tita lived there now, I almost expected Tito to be there though. It felt empty without him, even though he did very little. His chair was empty. I didn't know what I expected.