Thomas John Turlish

Thomas John Turlish, a devoted husband, father, grandfather, brother, and friend, passed away unexpectedly at his home in Bass River on August 4, 2025.

He was born on July 5, 1957, in Newark, New Jersey, to the late John and Doris Turlish, and was raised in Bayville before eventually settling in the quiet woods of New Gretna.

He was the second oldest of four, growing up alongside his sisters Denise, Fran, and Anna. Their father ran a bakery, and while those early years weren’t always easy, they were full of family, noise, and grit. Tom carried that same work ethic and sense of loyalty with him for the rest of his life. No matter where he went, he always stayed connected to his roots and the people who shaped him.

After meeting Stacy, the love of his life, the two decided to sell their homes and start fresh, together. They picked out a secluded piece of land in the middle of New Gretna, cleared it themselves (with help from his sons, her daughters, and a rotation of family friends); they began building their dream home from the ground up. Tom moved into a trailer on the cleared lot once his house sold, just to keep an eye on things. The whole process became a family affair, full of hard work, shift rotations, and more than a few bonding parties. What came out of it was more than just a house. It was a home, full of love, laughter, and a backyard he never wanted to leave. And while it was meant to be a quiet spot in the woods, they still had to chase off their fair share of quads and dirt bikes from the pit out back.

Tom and Stacy were both forces to be reckoned with, but in completely different ways. She came in blazing, full of energy and momentum. He was the calm in the storm, steady, grounded, but wiry and ready to throw down if needed. They balanced each other in the way only two stubborn people can. What they built together was strong, hard-earned, and filled with love.

Tom was a proud union man. He worked as an operating engineer with Local 68 at the Claridge Hotel for 29 years, nearly three decades of hard work, early mornings, late nights, and doing things the right way. He officially retired in 2013, but he never really stopped. He did all the HVAC work on their home himself, and even years later, he was still the mustached magician behind the air conditioning. If something broke in your house, he was the first one you called.

After retirement, he became the unofficial groundskeeper of their home. Everyone knew, his ‘office’ was the barn out back. Later the barn; packed with tools, trophies, decoys, bows, skulls, photos, and all the things that made up his world, burned down. When the barn burned down, we were devastated—but not as worried about the loss of stuff as we were about him sitting around with nothing to do. That scared us more than the fire itself. But Tom being Tom, he saved the dogs, said “It’s just stuff,” and got to work rebuilding, like he always did.

Tom always had a dog by his side and a hat on his head. He knew everybody, or at least it felt like he did. He never took life too seriously and always had a joke ready, the kind that made you roll your eyes and laugh anyway. He had a way of showing up for people. He cared. He paid attention. He asked questions, remembered details, and supported you without making a big deal out of it.

For his sons, he wasn’t just a father. He was their hunting buddy, their best friend, the first phone call in every situation, and the voice of reason when they needed one. He coached their baseball teams and made sure they knew how to kick ass. He taught them how to hunt, how to respect the outdoors, and how to laugh it out and not sweat the small stuff. And when they messed up, because they did, he handled it. Sometimes with silence, sometimes with a look, sometimes with words that hit harder than anything else. It was tough love, and they’ll be the first to tell you, they earned every bit of it.

For his stepdaughters, Tom wasn’t their dad. He came into their lives when they were already teenagers, nearly grown. He didn’t raise them, but for twenty years he showed up. There were times when that meant tough love, and it wasn’t always easy, but it was real. He was there at graduations, birthdays, weddings, and moves, offering steady support when it mattered. And when they had children of their own, he never felt like a stand-in or a “step.” He was their kids’ grandfather, not in name only, but in every way that counted.

To his grandchildren, he was Poppi. Of everything in his life, they were his greatest joy. He snuck them candy, built zip lines, told his best and worst jokes, and took endless pictures. He paid attention to every little thing they had going on, watching them grow, cheering them on, and feeling nothing but pride as they came into their own. His home was their playground, and the chaos that came with it, the running, the screaming, the toys everywhere, never bothered him. In fact, he loved it. “You’re always welcome,” he would say. “We love having you here.” And he meant it. Every time. Those kids lit him up in a way nothing else could.

Tom was the kind of man who made an impact just by being around. He made friends everywhere he went and kept them for life. He will be deeply missed by everyone who knew and loved him.

He is survived by his wife Stacy; his sons, Christopher and Kevin; his stepdaughters, Dawnette and Rhoda; his sisters, Denise Turlish DelMaestro, Fran Sessa, and Anna McGuire; and his beloved grandchildren: Layla, Hailey, Ian, Tyler, Wren, and Holly.

A visitation will be held on Saturday, August 9th, from 9:00 AM to 11:30 AM at Maxwell’s Funeral Home, located on Mathistown Road in Little Egg Harbor. Burial will follow at Miller’s Cemetery in Bass River.