But for 21 years, the Sunnyvale resident was simply Bum—or "Rocky" to some—a son, brother, cousin, friend, teammate, inspiration and protector.

"He would always be there for you when you were down, he was like Old Faithful, a shoulder to lean on," said Lance Cpl. Zheng "Joe" Chen, a friend of Lee's since fifth grade.

When Lee's sister needed someone to play Scrabble with, Lee played with her on his family's aging Scrabble board. When he forced his friends to watch dramatic Korean movies with him, the "hopeless romantic" made sure to recite every romantic line to them, so they knew what was going on.

After enlisting, Lee served in San Diego, Okinawa, Japan, and finally Iraq, where he died on June 2 after being wounded by an explosion in the Al Anbar province. News of his death came as a blow to his family and friends, whose collective breath had been held since Lee was initially wounded on May 29.

"For any family, it's not easy losing a son," Chen said. "But it's especially hard for an Asian family to lose the first born, only son."

On June 6, more than 300 friends and family packed into San Jose Korean Central Church in Campbell, to honor Lee's exceptional life.

"It was bittersweet," his cousin Jin Whang, 27, said. "It was so sad, but it was the best way to remember and honor him."

Lee came to Sunnyvale with his family in November of 1987, where he lived until enlisting in the Marine Corps just after he graduated from Homestead High School in 2001.

He grew up in a tight-knit group of five cousins—presided over by his older sister Elis—celebrating holidays, playing heated games of Scrabble and raising one another.

"We were like a big camaraderie of 'sisters' and he was the only little brother," Whang said.

"I felt like Elis was the mother of our group and Bum and I were the protectors of our group," his cousin Esther Lee—who helped teach him English when his family first came to the United States—remembered. "He was like a brother to me, and I know that everyone will miss him."

The title "Brother," is often spoken when friends and family refer to Lee because he helped everyone—whether it was with tuition payments, girl troubles or history essays.

For his real sister, Elis, he was a companion through life, always open and honest. She taught him to drive in their family's light-blue Mazda hatchback and was there for him when he got lost and needed directions home from various parts of the South Bay.

When Elis went away to UC­Davis, Lee would occasionally send some of his military pay home to support her.

Chen said Lee's desire to help his family played a large part in his enlistment in the Marines, so he could use the pay—and the $50,000 GI Bill that came with service—to support his own education.

"He was selfless," Chen said. "He didn't want his family to be burdened by the cost of his education."

Lee attended Homestead High School where he was on the varsity water polo team. Athletics director Paula Weismann met "Rocky" Lee for the first time in an English class she was teaching and remembers his work ethic and calm attitude in class. Weismann said he never caused trouble, as high school boys are prone to do.

"He was just one of those kids you could count on to sail an even course," she said.

And in a high school Chen says was full of small cliques, Lee navigated effortlessly through the crowd, making friends with everyone he met.

"I think it was that he was always smiling. It was like a disease that spread on contact," Chen said.

After graduating, Lee and three friends enlisted in the Marine Corps. Chen and Lee—best friends for years—were separated when Lee entered active duty and Chen chose the Marines Reserves. While most of their contact was through friendly—albeit sporadic—emails and phone calls, they were briefly reunited while serving in separate units at Camp Pendleton.

"To have someone there that you grew up with made life a little easier," Chen said. "Home felt a little closer."

When Lee returned from boot camp, his friends and family remember seeing a man emerge where there once what they called "baby fat."

"Before he left, I still only saw him as my baby brother, and when he came back, I saw a mature young man," Elis said. "It helped me realize 'Wow, he's becoming an adult; he's not my little teenage boy anymore.' "

Whang—the oldest of the group of cousins—remembers seeing Lee right after he left boot camp, when he visited her in Los Angeles on his way home from Camp Pendleton in San Diego. Her little cousin had turned into a strong, confident man.

"He kind of came of age in the Marines," Whang said. "He grew up there, and he died there."

Chen—who was one of the first soldiers into Iraq when the war began—said Lee rose through the Marine Corp ranks faster than usual, achieving corporal status while his friends were still lance corporals, one step below. But even with his success, Chen said Lee remained the same humble, kind, respectful person he had always been.

"Marines are cocky. We like to talk about the things we've done," Chen said. "But he wasn't that kind of person; he was always humble."

His rise through the ranks also included a number of medals and achievements, including the National Defense Service Medal and the Sea Service Deployment Ribbon. He is posthumously being awarded the Global War on Terror Expeditionary Medal, the Combat Action Ribbon and the Purple Heart. His body is being escorted home by his cousin Charlotte Lee, a Marine stationed in Quantico, Va.

"He's a guy you can never replace," Wang said. "He filled a place in our hearts that no one else will ever touch."

Funeral services and additional memorials are being organized but by press time, the date had not been decided.

Donations to the Marine Moms, a support network for Marines and their families can be sent to Elis Lee, c/o Jerilyn Lightfoot, 3207 Benton Street, Santa Clara, CA 95051.