Thomas D. Bluni

Beloved husband, father, and grandfather - and a teacher whose lessons will live on far beyond the classroom

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Tom Bluni was the kind of man whose impact was measured not by words, but by what he showed up for — and he showed up for everything that mattered. He was a devoted husband, a proud father and grandfather, and a brother who stayed close to his roots. He worked hard — sometimes three jobs at once — to make sure his family had what they needed, and he did it without complaint - ok, maybe a little complaint. 

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He believed deeply in the power of education, not just because he was an educator, but because he lived it. He gave his time, his energy, and his weekends to provide for his children, ensuring they never wanted for anything and that they received the best education possible. And when money was tight (as it often was), love, structure, and a sense of purpose were never in short supply.  He was loved not only by his family but also by the hundreds of students he taught during his career.  Even long after retirement, Tom would be spotted by former students throughout New England who would call out to him in excitement and come running over to chat with Mr. Bluni.

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He stayed close with his family — because in his world, family wasn’t just important, it was everything. He believed in loyalty, tradition, and taking care of your own, just like his parents taught him. He was old-school Italian in the best way. Grounded. Generous. Unshakably proud of where he came from — and what it meant to keep those roots alive. Including tripe… which, honestly, probably didn’t need to survive the trip across the Atlantic. 

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He liked to paint — but only on his terms. No lessons, no critiques, and definitely no “helpful suggestions.” Just whatever he felt like putting on a canvas, thank you very much. He loved the Yankees, even when they were unwatchable, and defended them like they were blood relatives. And cards? Please. He didn’t play for fun — he played to win. And if he beat you , you’d be reminded of it… casually, repeatedly, and with great satisfaction.  He did the same with any board game and even the Sunday crossword.

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Technology was another story. He never really figured out how to use his phone. FaceTime? Forget it. And Zoom calls were pure chaos. He’d pop in, immediately ask “Can you hear me?” on a loop, while we all stared at a close-up of his forehead. Unfortunately for his son Tommy, he was Tom's de facto IT guy and often received random calls proclaiming things like “Tommy, I can’t get my Googles to work!!”

 

Tom was devoted to his wife, Lillian, for 34 years, and absolutely lit up around his grandkids. He gave us strength, stability, and a quiet standard for what it means to love — fully, consistently, without conditions. Together, he and Lillian built a warm, welcoming life — the kind of place where holidays were loud, the fridge was always full, and grandkids were the center of the universe. Their home, a place we affectionately dubbed Del Boca Vista, was filled with laughter, stories, and the comfort of a life well shared.​ With 11 grandchildren between them, their love created the kind of family that sticks close, shows up, and keeps the stories alive.

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He meant everything to us. And we miss him already — in the big ways, in the little ways, and in all the in-between moments where his voice, his laugh, or his not so quiet presence would’ve been.

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But his stories, his lessons, and that stubborn, loving spirit of his — they’re not going anywhere. They’ll stay with us, woven into who we are, and passed down the same way he did things: without fanfare, but with full heart.