Posted by Peter Terrana II on October 19, 2010:

All too often, terms like "brilliant," "exceptional," "one of a kind..." are overused. Where it comes to my Uncle Don, such descriptions actually pale in comparison to the man himself. If he weren't my relative & we had simply met in the course of everyday life -- I would feel the same. I think the singular thing that Uncle Don would love to be remembered for most would not be any particular accomplishment (of which there are countless). I think he'd love to be remembered for the nature of his heart. I've never met a man more passionate about living. Unlike many people who seem to know the price of everything and that value of nothing, Uncle Don genuinely celebrated life itself at every moment. Writing this is very difficult for me; I've never known this world without Uncle Don in it. No, we haven't had allot of personal contact in my adult years, but what we've shared over time is unforgettable; and the impression he's made on my life is indelible. The last time I saw Uncle Don was when my mother Dolores Mary O'Shei Terrana (his big sister) died in September of '04. After the services, friends & family retired to my brother Joe's home in St. Pete, Fla. My Dad, my brothers & I and Uncle Don ended up sitting around the patio table reminiscing about Mom. Having remembered that Uncle Don used to enjoy singing Irish tunes, I asked him to indulge me with one or two; whereupon he launched into into a litany of songs I never heard before. It was incredible how beautifully he sang and how many lyrics he remembered. Later on I played a Celtic based instrumental for him on guitar, which I wrote, called "Sean in Space." It is a highlight in my life that after I'd finished, Uncle Don went out of his way to express his amazement with my performance. I could see that he was deeply thrilled, and this thrills me to this day, every time I think about it. I lost my Dad in December of last year. He and Uncle Don were the best of friends going back to their teenage years when Dad met Mom. For health reasons, or maybe because he didn't want to deal with it (or perhaps a mixture of both), Uncle Don didn't make it to my Dad's funeral. I just recently learned that he took my Dad's passing particularly hard and that he'd been planning to take Dad on an adventure with him. Uncle Don came to visit Mom & Dad in the mid 80's. Sitting at the dining room table I had a wonderful conversation with him, as always covering a number of subjects. He was excited about, and related at great depth, his discoveries in the O'Shei genealogy & family history (evidently, he wasn't the only colorful character in the clan). He also talked of his connection with Top Gun training (the movie was very popular at the time). Being somewhat of a political animal, I took the opportunity to ask him about Vietnam, and I'm immensely grateful that I did; as this gave me yet another window into to the depth of character possessed by this man (who, as I recall him saying, was given command in two tours of Vietnam as Army Colonel). After discussing the potential reasons for going to war in the first place, Uncle Don asked me If I wanted to know what he told his troops. I was all ears. He told me that he called each soldier under his command into his office individually and asked him this question -- "What is your job here?" The answer would inevitably be something along the lines of, "Sir, my job is to carry out the mission sir!" Uncle Don would respond, "No. The mission is my responsibility. While you're here, it's your job to stay alive." Wow! My first remembrances of Uncle Don go back to 1955-56, I was four & five years old. After much anticipation, Uncle Don would arrive on our front porch (on Trinity Pl. in Buffalo, NY) sporting his gray wool West Point cadet uniform, complete with his white cadet hat (which I would put on my tiny head, smelling his scent on the leather headband). Next to him was a huge olive-green Army-issue duffel bag, stuffed to the gills with mostly laundry which Mom would wash then dry for him on the clothes-line in our back yard. Our home consisted of... my dad Pete Terrana Sr., my mother Dolores, my older brother Joe, myself, and still in a crib -- my brother Jerry (named after Uncle Gerald O'Shei) . My brother Don Terrana (Uncle Don's namesake) was yet to arrive on the scene. Dad named his firstborn son "Joe" after his father & me after himself (an Italian tradition). My mother named Jerry & Don. I couldn't have been more than 5 when (as we often did) our family went to Beaver Lake in western New York for a cookout & a swim. On this particular day I was so engrossed in exploring the boardwalk and the beach that I lost track of our picnic table. I kept looking & looking but it was as if I'd landed on a different planet. Nothing was familiar and I was desperately searching the eyes of strangers for a reassurance which they couldn't give. I'd already reached the point of panic when my Uncle Don found me. His brilliant warm face filled my field of vision, and I was saved. He lifted me onto his shoulders & carried me back to our picnic area. It must have been quite a sight; all I can remember was blubbering uncontrollably high atop his broad shoulders as he carried me to safety. When I was older, I remember talking to Uncle Don while he was reading. At first, because I was standing right in front of him, I thought he was ignoring me. Then I looked into his eyes & saw how rapt he was with what he was reading and that the man never heard a word I said. I've never known anyone with his powers of concentration. Well I could go on & on here but suffice it to say that Don O'Shei was truly an indescribable man, and as dear and special to me as any man could ever be. ...And to his sons Don II, John, and Ross only you guys can feel the loss more keenly. He must have been one incredible Dad. Godspeed on your new journey Donald Michael O'Shei...

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