It’s been two weeks since our family drove across the state to get our eldest installed for his freshman year at Whitworth University. Whenever I mention dropping Jack at college, the first thing everyone wants to know is, How much did you cry when you said goodbye?

I’ll get to that.

First, a little backstory. Whitworth University, as many of you readers recognize, is my alma mater, known in my day as Whitworth College. Mine was its centennial class. It is where I was inspired and taught to be a writer.

From the time our daughter, Madeline, was in preschool and we first visited the campus in the fall for a reunion weekend, she has aspired to attend Whitworth. The fact that there is no lovelier campus than Whitworth in the fall may have had something to do with it. Even at age four, our girl appreciated beauty. Today as a high school senior, she still does but has added other reasons to her list for why she wants to go there.

Jack’s choosing Whitworth, however, came as a surprise. As recently as two years ago when we visited the campus to give him another taste, Whitworth did not catch and hold. Some months later, when he graduated high school, his plans for higher education remained uncertain. He intended to pursue further studies but really did not know what that would look like. Wisely, he took a gap year to work and wait for things to become clearer.

Eventually, sometime in the last year, the idea of going to Whitworth took root. Jack applied, got in, and suddenly I found myself with a kid heading to my school a year earlier than I expected. Making me officially a Legacy Alum.

The summer of course was filled with preparations for getting Jack settled across the state. As he had been spending his gap year living independently across town, we had a foretaste of what Jack’s absence from our home would feel like. Still, whenever I thought too much about leaving him on campus, and especially when I read articles like this one about other moms’ experiences, I choked up. Joy and sorrow comingled. Tears flowed. This worried me. If I was crying like this while he was still with us, what would I be like when I had to leave him?

I did my best to prepare Jack for it. Of course I was preparing myself too. I told him I would probably cry. He said he expected me to.

Finally, the big weekend arrived. After packing every crack and crevice of our Ford Escape with Jack’s stuff, on Friday afternoon we headed east on I-90 for 251 miles.

I tried not to think about Sunday, when we’d be heading west across I-90, without him.

Saturday, move-in day, dawned bright and beautiful. We pulled up in front of MacMillan Hall, Jack’s new home. We unloaded and got Jack settled into his room.

We met Henry, Jack’s new roommate, an international student from Taiwan.

So far, so good.

After various orientation activities, we eventually gathered with all the other incoming freshmen and parents out in the Loop, the grassy, pine-tree dotted center of campus, for the Crossover Ceremony. This is when the incoming class is formally presented to the university president. We did not have a Crossover Ceremony in my day, and so I was unprepared for what followed.

In hindsight, this was a good thing.

Maybe they planned it this way?

So Jack’s class was presented to the president. And then, by tradition, we all sang together “Amazing Grace,” acapella. And then the Class of 2025 processed through the “Pinecone Arch” to mark their crossing over from their parents’ care to the Whitworth community’s.

Did I mention that they did this while the Chariots of Fire theme song played?

Not. Fair. For the parents, that is. Not a dry eye among us. The students, on the other hand, seemed unfazed.

However. What this meant for me in the long run — and to answer the question — is that this allowed me to finish up all the pre-crying I needed. So that by the time we arrived at our actual goodbyes the next day, I was able to stay dry-eyed. Still sad to leave my boy, of course, but mainly just happy and excited about what lay ahead for him. No tears.

I think Jack was relieved.

Maybe I was too.

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