I am sitting on my porch inside the condo community. It is a bright day in sunny California at a time of day that is quiet during work hours. The street is clear except for vehicles rolling by now and then. Children are attending schools, and I am under a cloud of distress. Tears bubbling were caused by a reality I did not know was part of me and embedded in my soul of ignorance. The disregard of society has groomed me into thoughtlessness, harshness, mandated inactivity, control by social unconsciousness staining everyday thinking, and the evil of assumption. Granted unacceptance of the people who are barely survivors on our streets and failing to identify them as human beings in a society of rejection.

So, it seems I am one of those who reject the soul’s failed society as an ugly intrusion, denying them consideration in many forms. I forgot or ignored the fundamental principle that lives matter. My cynical sight and many like me have contributed to harming the unprotected among us until it struck home. My brother, age 75, has regressing mental capabilities contributed by a dying brain and dementia. Partial cripple caused by a debilitating stroke, lefthand stationing in a bend, left foot drags in his usual gait, he took a short stroll from his home to the neighborhood liquor store. The caregiver was unaware of his absence from the home. Dressed decently, jeans and a shirt. Nothing in his pockets except a food card. Though eating food is no longer his thing. Misdirection comes with a deteriorating brain. My brother got lost. He had nothing on him to identify who he was.

My physically and mentally impaired brother managed to travel more than seventy blocks from home. I believe he disappeared for three days, wandering the streets, trying to find his way home. The family searched for him, contacted the police, and reported him missing to Missing Persons. They searched for him the entire time he went missing. We were all frightened for 2 him. I often think about the situation, understanding people driving by my brother saw him only as an invisible homeless derelict of little value. I, myself, could very well have been one of the drivers on the streets the days he went missing and ignored him. Possibly. No conscious help is forthcoming from what is considered the normal, caring society of every civilized neighborhood in our country.

I am crying because he is my brother, not for the thousands of unvalued people who may have been similarly affected. And then I understood. I rejected many others, not glancing at the limping, and therefore rejected my brother. A five-foot, seven-inch cripple man, harmless father, brother, husband, son, and friend, once part of the acceptable social rejecting population.

Finally, an anonymous call came through to the police department. A badly beaten old man lying on the ground looks like he is dead in an apartment complex garage. Hours after the call came in, he was finally delivered to a county hospital. God does not leave us alone. That one caring woman gave him back to us with her simple concern call.

His youngest son, making calls to hospitals, located a man found in a coma with a tattoo of a woman’s name on his arm, his only form of identification, rushed to identify him. My brother had been severely beaten, in a coma, head busted, blood vessels damaged to his brain, bleeding, almost entirely disconnected from his body, face smashed in, brain dead, life support keeping him breathing.

My son came by to offer me comfort. We spoke a little, silently understanding our pain, and experienced sadness for an old man’s life destroyed by a cruel man beating him to death instead of the old man experiencing a natural end to his life.

“I get it, Mom,” he interrupted my crumbling thoughts. “We should never assume that 3 because someone has the appearance of a discarded, unloved transient, they are automatically considered a worthless human being and passed by without a second thought or a first sight. It is hard to see the differences between the worth and the worthless. So then, what do we do?”

“Our best. Help when we can. Never give up self-protection, but consider those you pass by on the streets. It is hard to differentiate between danger and endanger. I probably will try to do better when I pass by what is considered an assumed derelict. I will act like they are not dangerous and may be worth helping. One woman did with my brother when she contacted 911. Hopefully, I will act accordingly.” I hesitated. “May he rest in peace.”