Her words hung in the air. “Wait what happened?” I repeated, slightly shaking. I stared into my mom’s sad eyes, longing for clarity for what she was saying. Silence. “What happened?” I demanded. Her eyes closed, as she swallowed the air in the room.

“It was several months ago. Grandma and grandpa...” She paused, turned to my dad for help, but his face was vacant. Her face dropped like a rock. She stared at the ground as if she was counting the wood planks on the floor. She took another deep breath and reluctantly continued. “Grandma and grandpa were having a rough time and they decided to put Diane in a home.” Her words felt like a slap to the face. Aunt Diane? In a home? How could they do that?

My Aunt Diane is mentally disabled. When she was born, there were complications during her birth that prohibited her brain from getting enough oxygen. Thus, her brain didn’t properly develop, and she struggles with remembering and communicating. Later in her life, her disability has caused many other health related issues to occur. She struggles walking, standing up and other day to day things. Each day her balance gets worse, sometimes she will take a step, and lean to one side like the leaning tower of pisa, but unlike that monument, she is going down unless someone is there to catch her. At family parties it takes two people to pull her out of her chair. And when she walks, each step seems to take so much energy, that she is beat after a few minutes. But, she hasn’t let her setbacks stop her. She is the happiest person I know. As she walks into a room, smiles with her crooked teeth and innocent playful grin, immediately the mood becomes lighter. Diane has a way of bringing out the best in people. She reminds everyone around her of what is really important. I have learned so much about life from her; how to be compassionate, loving, patient and understanding. I would do anything to protect her.

“They said it was the best option for them. And for Diane.” The best option? The best option? They had five great options and they decided to choose the worst one. I bit my tongue, trying to listen to what else happened without losing my temper. That anger turned to shock and then pain.

What came next was unimaginable. To this day I am still in shock. You never think this will happen to someone you love. But it can happen to anyone.

The air in the room rested over us, not a single movement. My dad sat in the corner of the room as if he were a thinking statue. While my sister slumped on the couch, her eyes burning a hole through the wall. A shiver ran up my spine, like cold, clammy hands poking each vertebrae.

“One day Diane got on the wrong bus.” my mom cleared her throat. “Instead of going to work, the bus took her downtown.” My neck went limp and my face landed in my palms. I knew nothing good was going to come next. I imagined Diane alone in the city; aimlessly wandering, and not having any clue where she was. I could picture her saying “Where’s Anna? Where’s Jodi?” to complete strangers. My mind raced through all of the memories we had together. From the birthday parties, to rafting, and the hugs she gives me. But they all seemed tainted now.
“The home called grandma and grandpa, to let them know that she got on the wrong bus. So they called the police, and they searched everywhere for her. They eventually found her that day…” Her words faded off, as tears began to cloud her eyes. Looking back now, I never imagined that this would happen. The fear she must have felt. Diane can barely stay home alone, let alone be in the city by herself. I rocked back and forth in my chair trying calm myself down as the tears poured down my face. My predictions soon proved to be correct, however not in the way I was thinking, in a much, much worse way.

“They found her in an alley. A drunk man was trying to rape her.” My abs gave out. My face fell between my legs. A million questions darted through my brain. Did she try to fight him? Was she able to fight him? Did he actually rape her? Were the cops too late? I turned to my sister, and dad. Her eyes glistened, and his face was buried in his hands.

Even after years of knowing, and coping, the pain still haunts them. It still haunts me. I learned that the world is a cruel place, It doesn’t care for the less fortunate or disabled; it uses them and spits them back out.

Since I grew up around Diane, I learned and understood the challenges that mentally disabled people deal with everyday. Therefore, I naturally become more open-minded, accepting and loving of the special needs community. Because of Diane, my sister chose to pursue a career in helping kids with mental disabilities. We often talk about how the world views mentally handicap people, it's cruel, and ignorant. People talk about them as if they are some foreign species. They categorize these people under “retard” a term that is offensive and completely  incorrect. Mentally disabled people may be different but they are still human and still have the same basic similarities as everyone else. In the media, we rarely see the inclusion of people with disabilities. Society needs to see more acceptance. I know one person isn’t going to instantly change the way society thinks, but it's a start.