I was touched by Alan Grosso’s story about honoring a promise he made to a friend to stay in touch (May 27). He went to great lengths to find him and, after 45 years, he brought flowers to his grave.

His friend was my brother, Jimmy McMorrow. I was five years old when the parish priest and the Marines came to deliver the bad news. I remember seeing them drive down No Name Pond Road in two black limousines into our dooryard. I remember yelling, “Jimmy’s home. Jimmy’s home.”

Indeed, he was.

The casket was closed, the church was full, the incense strong. I remember only one young woman sobbing — a girlfriend, I think.

For almost 40 years, I had no interest, appreciation or respect for men in uniform, be it military or religious. I was blessed, however, to live in Texas in 2005, when one of the most courageous women I have ever met led a march in Waco, Texas, to ask George W. Bush, “what exactly was the noble cause her son, Casey Sheehan, had died for”?

It was there, just down the road from Bush’s ranch, that I spent most weekends that summer, protesting with the tens of thousands who came in temperatures well higher than 100 degrees most days, to say “no” to war.

It was there I stood with, and in appreciation of, soldiers who had served in many of the nation’s wars who now knew the truth, and with preachers who spoke of peace, that I began to heal from the loss of my brother, Jimmy.

I learned that young men and women who choose to join the military and serve their country do it with the most honorable of intentions. They believe what they are told. They want to do their part.

I appreciate their courage.

I believe it is up to us, as American citizens, however, to make sure we truly honor them by avoiding war at all costs. We must stand up to and refuse to listen to the lies, the fear, the propaganda.

War is about greed — making money and gaining power and oil. We must want peace at all costs.

Peace, of course, begins in our own hearts, in our families, our neighborhoods, and in our relationships.

One standout soldier I met in Waco, a gay soldier, had on his arm a tattoo that read “I am my brother’s keeper.”

Every 65 minutes, a veteran commits suicide. There are 19,000 military rapes every year, and those are the ones that are reported. Every night, more than 62,500 veterans are homeless.

Clearly, as a nation, we are failing a task that he held as a creed to live by.

I so appreciate Alan Grosso for honoring his promise to my brother. I only wish that this country had his integrity and perseverance.

Kate McMorrow, Camden