BANGOR – Henry J. O’Shea “Harry,” passed away peacefully Feb. 16, 2010, in Bangor, after a long struggle with Parkinson’s disease. He was born in 1929 in the Bronx, New York City, to Irish parents – refugees from Ireland’s Civil War – Thomas H. O’Shea and Hilda Hughes. Harry grew up in a close-knit Irish neighborhood with his brothers, Thomas, Terrence and John O’Shea, who are now deceased; and surviving cousins, Pat, Martin and John Walsh. He was predeceased by his sister, Mary O’Shea; and is survived by his sister, Kathleen Golden. He graduated from Regis High School and Fordham College, both Jesuit institutions in the Bronx. He married Kathleen Lee “Kate,” another first generation child of Irish immigrants, in 1952, at St. Jerome’s Roman Catholic Church. He was a tank commander in the Army National Guard and reserves, and also worked in the insurance business his entire life. He was an avid golfer and played at courses all over the United States while on the many business trips he took, often joined by his wife, Kate. He leaves daughter, Ellen; son, Peter and wife, Sara Wilson; son, Tom; son, Mark; daughter, Kathy and husband, Mark Hummel; and daughter, Mary and husband, John Peckenham. He will be missed by grandchildren, Kate, Charlie and Isabelle Emanuel, Rosie, Kyle and Patrick O’Shea, Grace and Maureen Hummel, and Margaret, Sally, Phoebe, James, Caroline “Polly” and Emily Peckenham. He also leaves many cousins, nephews, nieces and friends, both here and in Ireland. The family wishes to express their grateful thanks to the staff at Westgate Manor for the loving and respectful care they gave to Harry in his last years. A Mass of Christian burial will be held 10 a.m. Saturday, Feb. 20, at St. Vincent de Paul Church, Bucksport, with the Rev. Bruce Siket officiating. Anyone wishing to make a donation in Harry’s memory may donate to Food For The Poor’s Haiti Relief at Arrangements are under the direction of Mitchell-Tweedie Funeral Home and Cremation Services, 28 Elm St., Bucksport. He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths. Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams. W. B. Yeats