A family member

My brother, Donnie, is eight years older than me. He is diagnosed with autism and mental retardation. He lives in a group home one city over and needs constant care - bathroom care, day and evening care - basically, the care you would give a toddler or small child but he is an adult.
Donnie can't speak and knows minimal sign language. He is gentle and only uses his strength when he wants to take food. His vice is food and often times his medication makes him crave food, even when he is full, to the point where he will vomit from eating too much. But he is not violent. He is 5'4" and, as of last year, people now ask if he is younger than me. He has flawless tan skin, big almond eyes and my mom says he looks young because he doesn't have a worry in the world.
My parents spent most of his life worrying about him. There came a point when Donnie became too strong, he wasn't quite a teenager yet, and they had to seek help to take care of him. In the early 80s, he lived in a nice group home in Malibu where he got to do things like horseback riding. But his behavior changed to the point in which it disqualified him from living there. I don't know if "disqualify" is the proper term but essentially he was too difficult for them to handle. He wasn't his mild-mannered self and he had started doing things like soiling his pants. The staff found it too hard to take care of him. To be fair, there is a certain grade or functioning level that all clients need to be at in a home (they have to be similar enough so the staff can take care of them) and my brother wasn't behaving at that level.
But to be fair to Donnie, doctors figured out much later that it wasn't my brother's fault - he had a bad reaction to one of his medications. Or two of his many medications clashed with each other, bringing on the unusual behavior. I forgot which one it was but it changed his life.
My brother then lived in a state institution in Sonoma for many years. During this time, I was in grade school and then high school. I wish I could tell you I was more involved in my brother's life but I was a bit too self-centered  and immature, leaving him  and the situation all up to our parents. I remember, though, visiting my brother and being scared to get him. It was a large institution filled with patients with varying degrees of mental illnesses. I remember touring and, just like you would see in the movies with insane asylums, there were medical staff behind a square class enclosures while patients wandered the hallways.
At the end of all our visits, my parents would have to bribe my brother with snacks (I guess food has always been his vice) to get him to get out of the car and walk him back inside the building and to his room. I never thought about it back then but I'm certain it was a scary place for him. He is not violent and when people show aggression, he cowers. I'm not saying this because I love him but he truly is a gentle soul.
I forgot to mention that the one time I did tour the facility, a female patient grabbed my ponytail and pulled. No staff helped so my dad finally had to grab her wrist and squeeze hard so she would let go. My parents never made me get out of the car to walk him back to his room after that.
My dad worked nights so my mom would attend these meetings for parents who had children in this institution. I found out later that it was because they were banding together to sue the state. They knew their children were unsafe. It's been a long time so I can't remember if one parent had a daughter who got pregnant or found out that his daughter had been raped. Either way, it was horrific. These parents, along with my parents, wanted the state to pay for their children to be in decent group homes and not in an institution that couldn't properly take care of them. Remember, my brother never wanted to go back to his room at the end of our visits.
I don't know what my brother endured there or life, in general. He cannot talk and has the mind of very young boy in a grown man's body. But he cannot talk or defend himself. I don't want to think about what has happened to him or what awful people may have done to him. My mom said that she had heard from a staff member that there was a patient who picked on him and would throw his shoes on the roof. I sincerely hope that was all that has been done to him. Donnie is a vulnerable soul who depends on the kindness and love of individuals. Sure, we all kind of do but he is like a little boy. I know my parents worried and continue to worry that no evil goes near him but isn't it awful to know that you just never know?
I've written about my belief in God and still having a lot of questions. I do believe, though, that my brother is an angel on earth. He is completely innocent and doesn't understand sin. One of the things I struggle with is why can't God protect innocent beings like him, babies, young children and the truly vulnerable. Why wicked people are allowed to hurt those who cannot protect themselves. It makes me cry thinking about it.
I wish my brother and I could talk. I wish I could do more for him and be a better sister. Most of all, I wish that he could only be surrounded by people who only mean to do right by him. It's something I pray for just about every day.