Hello, my name is 
Our mother was 36 years old when she died. I was 16, my brother was almost 13 and our little sister was almost 9, we also have an older sister who was 19 and out of the house when our mother died.
The night she died, I was being a rebellious 16 year old, angry at the world. She went out to look for me and I was no where for her to find me. When I came home she was not looking good. I was drinking and she ended up dying later that evening. I was devastated.
The day of her funeral my brother was so distraught, he was her only son. He never knew a life without her, nor did I. Not really, without her although we had many run ins with child protection and such. He truly was her little boy. He could do no wrong in her eyes.
I was removed from the home because of our mother's husband, he didn't want me there because I was not one to keep quiet about anything that went against my heart. So I went from place to place for a little while.
I ran away and found my best friend was there to help she, 
I was released when I was 18, but not immediately. It took a few months before I completed the program. My brother stayed and from there, things went crazy for him. He was lost, confused, under/over-medicated, he was pissed if you ask me. He didn't know how to cope, hell neither did I for that matter. So for the next few years my brother went from institution to institution. He never received the proper care, the care he desired as a young boy, the care of his/our mother. She was gone, so all hope went with her. At least that is what my observation was.
My brother then became an adult, now 18, flushed from the CHINs no longer getting the help he needed. I took him in but I was a 22 year old step-mother, going through my own demon filled issues. I tried to get him help he didn't want my help! So my brother took off to San Diego, to live on the beach, literally. He was there for a little while, and then 9/11 happened, and I got a phone call from a random citizen in San Diego, asking me if my brother was Patrick, I said yes, the man proceeds to tell me I need to get my brother out of there, before he klls himself, or someone does it for him. So I bought him a non-refundable bus ticket back to Indiana.
When he made it back, he was no longer my brother. Something changed in him. It wasn't a good change either. I know life is hard, and it can truly mess up ones' psyche. My brother was addicted to drugs, or really just addicted to escaping reality. I have trouble with this myself, but as time goes by, my addictions have become less and less and I feel much more like myself. I worry that my brother will be lost forever, this is why I made this stophomelessness account.
My brother and I last saw one another in 2003 he was in prison in Florida the last known address that I can find.
I am trying to figure out how to go about finding someone who may not want to be found. I hope someone out here in steemitland can help me figure out which steps to take. I want to help all of our brothers from becoming a statistic. Thank you for reading, I hope to hear your thoughts on this.
If you have a missing friend or relative, please use the #stophomelessness tag so we can get our stories heard, and maybe find our missing loved ones!