I guess I thought I would be more emotional about my youngest graduating from high school

For many years I've tried to imagine this point in time.

Even when our son Jack was just a little guy, I often looked ahead to his high school graduation. What would it feel like, knowing an era in our family was coming to an end? How would I react to the conclusion of a very long journey involving the Tennant family and Wickliffe schools?

After all, Tennants have been students in this district for 50 of the last 61 years. It began when my family moved here from Euclid in the spring of 1963 and continued with only the slightest of interruptions when my brother Mark graduated in June 1975 and I started kindergarten that September.

There was an 11-year hiatus from the time I graduated in 1988 until Elissa started at Wickliffe Elementary in 1999. But since then, there has always been some combination of our kids in the schools.

Now, come May 15th when Jack dons the cap and gown, it all comes to an end. As a family, we're exiting stage left.

What I expected, when I thought about it those many years ago, was that I would be filling up Facebook right about now with a series of sentimental and highly emotional posts. I figured I would be lamenting daily about time going by so fast and little Jack getting his diploma the same way his four siblings did before him.

But I haven't done that. I haven't felt especially moved to do it.

And I wonder why.

It's not that I don't care. That's not the case at all. It's just that I'm...tired, I guess. 

Many families have reached this point before us, and I think most would agree it's a long road. Even when it's an especially enjoyable road, as it thankfully has been with our children, it's still a long one. It takes its toll mentally, emotionally and even physically (I'm fine never again having to move another chair or heavy table around the middle and high schools as an event set-up volunteer, thank you very much.)

Terry is the one who keeps Jack organized and focused on a daily basis – as one must often do with 17-year-old boys – but I still find myself running on fumes as we approach the finish line.

Speaking of finish lines, it doesn't help that Jack's senior track season has been all but derailed by a recurring calf injury. This was supposed to be the year he peaked and ran his personal-best times over 800 and 1600 meters. But as I type this, he hasn't even participated in half the meets.

If you've ever had a calf injury, you know how long they take to heal and how easy it is to make them worse when you push yourself too hard trying to come back.

I suppose there's also the fact that, while Jack and Terry are at home doing school-related stuff, I'm at work earning the money we all need to live on. There are events and activities I miss.

That has always been the case, though. Nothing new there.

In the end, it may simply be one of two things:

(1) Maybe the rush of emotion and sentimentality is yet to come. Maybe, once that jam-packed mid-May weekend of prom, senior awards and commencement arrives, I'll start feeling all the feels I anticipated in the first place.

(2) Then again, maybe I'm mistaking quiet contentment for apathy. Maybe this is the way years of worrying about the kids, helping them through the tough times, and taking pride in their achievements was always going to culminate.

Maybe this all ends not with a bang, but a whimper.

A low-key, joyous whimper. Accompanied by a half-smile and a look ahead to all the exciting things yet to come in our lives.

We're not even in our mid-50s yet, Terry and I. Lord willing and the creek don't rise, we still have a lot to do and a lot to look forward to.

It just won't necessarily involve the Wickliffe City School District anymore.

I think it's what the word "bittersweet" is supposed to describe.