My dad — like many fathers — doesn’t cry often. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen tears escape his eyes, and typically only after a tragedy.

But seated one evening months ago at an Applebee’s in suburban Illinois, as we waxed nostalgic about my mostly complete college journey, he brought up my future graduation ceremony — the day he and my mother, who both were never afforded the opportunity to receive a college education, will witness their one and only child achieve their unfulfilled ambitions.

Thinking about when he and my mom will sit proudly inside Carver-Hawkeye Arena to watch me walk across the stage and receive my diploma in May 2020, he said the occasion will surely make him shed more than a few tears. (As for mom — she already cries over most momentous life events and cheesy Hallmark movies, so we can count on her to cry when I graduate, too. Bless her heart.)

As a first-generation student, being a trailblazer has pushed me every step of the way. I know a degree can put my family on a new trajectory, and I carry the weight of responsibility for my family’s success every day. I’m just about a semester away from crossing the college finish line while my parents couldn’t even consider training for this marathon.

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Not all first-generation students are as lucky when it comes to graduation. According to the Center for First-Generation Student Success, we graduate at lower rates than our continuing-generation peers. The center reports that 56 percent of first-generation students and 40 percent of continuing-generation students had not earned any postsecondary credential six years after iniatially entering postsecondary education.

Contemplating life after college is a feat for any student, but given the low odds of earning a degree as a first-generation student, that future feels especially intangible.

It shouldn’t come as such a surprise that there are next steps to consider. People generally don’t go to college for college’s sake; the promise of a better future and a successful career draws us in.

Yet, I’ve been slow to accept that I will have a future to plan. For 22 years, the focus has been on getting here and taking full advantage of this opportunity — what happens after University of Iowa President Bruce Harreld or another high-ranking official shakes my hand, doles out my diploma, and gives me the boot?

Hopefully by then, I’ll be able to take that May day to bask in a hard-earned full-circle ending — accepting a diploma from the administrator I’ve had some nerdy fun reporting on for four years and watching my Daily Iowan and UI journeys collide for a moment. This scene I’ve imagined since my childhood is becoming clearer, but I can’t say the same for what will come next.

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It didn’t take me long after stepping foot on campus to figure out I wanted to be DI editor-in-chief. I planned to take on this job for three years. Soon, I’ll have to become something else that’s not DI editor and UI student — some career woman doing who knows what, who knows where. That’s exciting, but also terrifying.

The time is almost here to show my family that my college education was a worthwhile investment. Perhaps I’m irrationally worried that I’ll be the exception to the system and find myself unemployed when I graduate. I’m worried that I’ll be left without options after my parents gave everything to support my education and ensure that I would have a better life. I don’t want to dash my parents’ hopes of at least one of us achieving the American dream.

A good friend of mine says to “trust the process.” Sure, I have my doubts and plenty of I’m-approaching-graduation angst. But it may be time to put some faith in the process that’s gotten me this far. Around one-fourth of us Hawkeyes are “the first,” and we certainly won’t be the last.