The last photo Cindy Campbell received from her youngest brother shows him after a surf session at Virginia Beach, Va., with his arms outstretched and an exuberant look on his face, relaxing on one of his final days before deployment.

"It was a wonderful day," Campbell said. "We have so many pictures of him with his arms wide open. He just embraced life that way."

A few weeks later, on Aug. 11, 2011, a U.S. Chinook helicopter was shot down over Af­ghani­stan, killing 30 American servicemen, among them Chief Petty Officer Christopher George Campbell, a Navy SEAL, and another Hawaii-born Navy man, Senior Chief Petty Officer Kraig Vickers, a bomb disposal specialist. Both were 36 and had received Bronze Stars for valor.

In his will, Campbell asked his family not to focus on his death, but try to get 100,000 people to donate to the Wounded Warrior Project, which helps injured service members. His relatives and friends have worked to honor that request ever since. So far, 1,514 people have donated more than $120,000 in his name.

To mark this Memorial Day, his sister wrote individual letters to newspapers in every state asking them to give their readers a chance to help fulfill his challenge. By Friday a couple of papers had already posted her letter on their websites. Campbell, an accountant who lives in San Antonio, doesn’t know how many will publish her letter today, but she feels that every donation will help lift a service member struggling with the visible and invisible wounds of war.

Of the 2.5 million U.S. troops sent to Iraq and Af­ghani­stan, 6,667 have died in theater, and nearly 27 percent have a service-connected disability, according to the U.S. Census Bureau and Department of Defense. Many suffer from traumatic brain injuries and post-traumatic stress disorder. The Wounded Warrior Project is committed to empowering these veterans, physically, mentally, socially and economically.

Cindy Campbell’s fundraising campaign helps her cope with her own emotional wounds. On days when she is feeling especially down, like on her brother’s 37th birthday a month and 10 days after he was killed, she manages to find strength in his words.

"I just wanted to stay in bed," she recalled in a phone interview. "You don’t want to face it. Then I thought, ‘You know what? There are men and women struggling to get out of bed. Your heart is broken but your body is whole, so get with the program.’"

So she gathered up some donation checks she had collected and headed to the local Wounded Warrior Office, where she stayed to talk with two wounded veterans. One raised his pants leg to show how the war affected him.

"He was missing one of his legs," she said. "I thought, this is why I have to keep going."

She added, "In a way, it’s as though Chris has been our grief counselor. As hard as it is, when you just want to break down and cry, it’s like he is telling me there are still people coming home and we need our country to focus on them and support them."

Larry and Diane Campbell hail from Jacksonville, N.C., and lived in Hono­lulu for a few years while Larry was stationed here as a Marine. Even before the youngest of their children was born at Tripler Army Medical Center on Sept. 16, 1974, the doctor had said during a monthly prenatal exam, "This is the most active baby that I recall feeling."

"I told my mom, maybe he knew, in some way, ‘I have a short life,’ and so he hit the ground running," Cindy Campbell said. "He packed more in his nearly 37 years than many people will pack in their lifetime. He was a happy child, a fun-loving teenager, very spontaneous, very adventurous and courteous — he loved people.

"It’s been the most difficult thing to want to call and talk to him, and know that I can’t," she said. "Memorial Day will never be just another holiday or a day off of work for me. Instead it is yet another painful reminder of the high cost of war at a price I was not prepared to pay."

Although he left Hawaii as a baby, Christopher Campbell was proud of his island roots, and his first tattoo, on the nape of his neck, was a Hawaiian motif. When he became a father, he taught his daughter, Samantha, to surf.

"He was free-spirited and loved the feeling of the sand between his toes and catching waves," Cindy Campbell said.

His daughter had been looking forward to his return from deployment in time to celebrate her 15th birthday. Instead she missed the first few days of high school to attend his funeral.

In October her father was honored with a "Carry Forward Award" from the Wounded Warrior Project for his commitment to helping his fellow service members. His sister and his daughter attended the ceremony to receive a plaque on his behalf.

"He was at the top of his game," Cindy Campbell said. "But now he needs the U.S. population to carry him home, so to speak, by helping him accomplish his final mission."