Funerals are weird, especially family funerals. There’s a strange juxtaposition of the sadness you feel mourning someone you love deeply and the excitement of seeing family members you haven’t seen in quite some time. It was with these mixed emotions that Brian, Rachel and I set off for Fort Worth on January 13 to remember and celebrate Uncle Garland.

Having just had chemo the day before, you’d think that I would shy away from an eight hour car ride to Texas. You’d be wrong. I wouldn’t have missed the trip for the world. I don’t know if Uncle Garland knew how much he meant to me, but his sense of humor and quick wit always brought a smile to my face.

We set off that Friday morning with Rachel driving, me as the co-pilot and Brian sleeping in the backseat. I’ll never figure out how he can sleep that comfortably for that long, but it works for him. Rachel, who has a talent for finding amazing eats wherever we go, insisted that we stop for lunch at Big Truck Tacos in Oklahoma City, which I now agree is a must-have if you’re able to go, and we then made the pilgrimage to Buc-cee’s as we entered the DFW metro. (Spoiler: We stopped there again on the way out of town. That place has everything!) After making it to our hotel at City View, we met Mom and Daddy for some dinner and then turned in for the night.

We were up bright and early on Saturday to ready ourselves for the reason we’d made the journey – to say a family goodbye to Uncle Gar. Heading into the cemetery for the graveside service was familiar, having been there as an almost teenager for Daddy Buck’s funeral and again for Grandmommie’s little more than eight months after Rachel was born. I’d also visited a couple of times in college when I just wanted to sit – to just be alone with my thoughts and talk to Daddy Buck about what I was feeling, even if I was probably just talking to myself. It made me feel better somehow. And I felt better on this crisp, beautiful day knowing that they’d be there and have Uncle Gar right beside them.

Heading over to South Hills Christian Church from the cemetery, I couldn’t help but to take in the places I remembered from visits to Fort Worth from my childhood and during my brief time at TCU. Was that selfish? This trip wasn’t about me. I somehow don’t think Uncle Gar would have minded my trip down memory lane. He was the keeper of our family stories, after all. He would’ve loved it.

The service was amazing, just as I knew it would be with Daddy at the helm. He’d told me the week before that he knew it would be hard, but who knew his brother better than he did? I’m constantly amazed at my dad’s fortitude and grace, and this time was no different.

You’re getting mushy, Bishop. Tell us more about the weird.

Okay, fine. Yes, family funerals are weird because of the juxtaposition I mentioned earlier. I was excited to see folks that I hadn’t seen in a long time – my cousins Ginny, Amy and Paige, Ellen and Karen, to name a few –to share memories and stories with them and to mix that with the sadness we all felt at Uncle Gar’s passing. But you get a whole different perspective on it when you’re there and you’re also not well. The love and support of my family has always been a constant, but it was so enveloping, so much more intense this time. I can’t really explain it – maybe you can’t really know what I mean until you feel it too.

Bishop…

Sorry, sorry. Less mush coming up. After lunch at Spring Creek BBQ (also a must-have when you’re in Texas), we headed back to the hotel and readied for the second part of the day – the Fort Worth Rodeo. Yep, you heard me right – it was rodeo weekend and we were going. After driving through the Stockyards for a bit and marveling at the mass of humanity, we parked near Billy Bob’s and headed off on foot to see what all the fuss was about.

Spending some time walking around the Stockyards, it’s clear that the rodeo does not disappoint. We saw cowboys riding their horses in the street, saw some longhorns in their pens and caught the smells of Riskey’s Steakhouse, home of the world-famous Calf Fries. IYKYK. Alas, I tired out after about an hour or so – you know, having experienced chemo, travel and all in the previous 48 hours – so we headed back to the hotel, where I proceeded to sleep for the next 12 hours. Rachel and Brian had dinner, saw some other cousins and I was just out in a glorious slumber.

And the next morning, it was time to pack up and head back to Kansas. We were leaving beautifully warm Texas – it was in the 60s in early January – and heading home. After eating at Yolk in downtown Fort Worth – which was another winner from Rachel, we headed north (and stopped at Buc-cee’s again).

So why did I regale you with a story filled with funerals, tacos, gas stations and rodeos? I guess to show you that my life isn’t cancer all the time. Yes, it has stress and sadness, but it also has life and light, family and friends, and barbecue and tacos. And god knows, we all need some barbecue and tacos.