The first thing people say about Guadalupe “Lupe” Adriano Garcia, Jr. is simple: he smiled a lot. Not the polite kind of smile you give when passing someone in the hallway, but a genuine grin that seemed to carry its own light. At Wylie ISD, where Lupe drove a bus and served as a classroom aide, that smile became part of the school day. Kids noticed it. Teachers noticed it. Colleagues noticed it. And now, in his absence, the memory of that smile carries them through.

Lupe, Jr. left this world unexpectedly on August 19, 2025, at age 64. He lived in Cisco with his wife, Yvonna, and built a life full of faith, friendship, and family. Before he ever wore the purple and gold of Wylie, Lupe wore the stripes of an official—literally. Officiating was his dream, one he chased with determination until the day he could proudly text his lifelong friend and fellow Wylie staff member, Fernando Jaramillo: “I hit the big leagues, Brother. I’m in my stripes.”

Fernando and Lupe’s friendship stretched back to first grade in Cisco. They played football together, pulled the occasional prank (including a BB gun “battle” that ended with a pellet lodged behind Lupe’s ear), and laughed more than most boys probably should have. “He could crack me up in a minute,” Fernando recalled. “Always joking, always smiling.” That humor stayed with him, even as life grew more serious. Faith deepened, family grew, and eventually, a new dream—officiating—took root.

When Wylie Transportation Director Kelly Conder interviewed Lupe, Jr. about driving a bus, Lupe was upfront. He wanted to serve, but he also needed Thursdays and Fridays free to referee. Kelly chuckled at the request, but he saw a man trying to balance work with giving back. “I’d rather have you three days a week than not at all,” Kelly told him. That decision gave Wylie not just a bus driver, but a presence—one who prayed over students as he walked the halls, one who made morning routes feel like a safe start to the day.

In the classroom, he was just as impactful. Connie Griffin, who worked alongside him in Functional Academics, described Lupe, Jr. as “a blessing, an absolute joy.” He was patient, kind, and deeply compassionate with her students. “Teaching children with special needs is a gift,” she said. “And he had that gift.” Even though his time in the classroom was brief, his impact was lasting.

Wylie’s superintendent, Joey Light, echoed what so many already knew: “He was a happy, joyful person who brightened the room everywhere he went. His wife told me he loved being here at Wylie, and the feeling is mutual.”

There’s laughter woven into nearly every memory of Lupe, Jr.—because that’s simply who he was. He once told Fernando about cruising through Cisco in his truck, music blaring from Peter Frampton to Pink Floyd. Fernando still treasures an old high school photo of the two of them, part of a human "Pyramid of Brotherhood" made up of jesters, both grinning ear to ear. And if you spent more than five minutes with Lupe, you’d hear him bragging about his wife—never missing a chance to remind everyone how lucky he was that she loved him back.

But beyond the laughter, what lingers is love. Love for his students. Love for his friends. Love for Yvonna, whom he bragged on to anyone who would listen. Love for the Lord, which guided his steps.

At Wylie, Lupe, Jr. found not just a job, but a home. He told Fernando, “I’m living my dream now.” And for those who knew him—whether through a smile at the bus stop, a joke in the breakroom, or a steady hand with a child who needed it—that dream became a gift to everyone else.

As this community grieves, the best way to honor Lupe Garcia, Jr. might just be to do what he did so well: laugh when you can, love without hesitation, and live your faith out loud.

Because if Lupe, Jr. taught us anything, it’s this—joy has a ripple effect. And it’s great to be a Wylie Bulldog when you get to share in that joy.

Fernando and Lupe

#85

Pyramid of Brotherhood (Lupe 2nd Tier, Far Left)

Lupe 1st Row, 2nd From Left

#85 Front Row