My mother had reached her wit's end. She had exhausted every tool known to her and three counselors. It was the summer of 1999 and I was 16 years old. I remember the hatred I had for my mother when she told me I would be spending the summer at my grandparent's farm. I said, "I'm not going." This resulted in a suitcase of my clothes on the front porch. I was told to get in the car, or get out. I remember her exact words, "I love you too much to watch you destroy your life. If you want to continue down this path, do it in someone else's home, not mine. I can't bear to watch. Get in the car or get out." Tonight, 16 years later, I am at that ranch as we prepare to bury the most influential man of my life, my Papaw Joe. As I prepare for the toughest eulogy of my life, I am reading through the journals of a grandmother and grandfather that had unconditional love for a disrespectful, out of control, angry, broken young man. As I thumb through their version of that summer, I think back to my memories of each day. It was indeed the most developmental, attitude changing, heart softening period of my life. I invite you to join me on this journey though the journals of what I call "The 50 Days Of Hay."