In Loving Memory of
                                                                                  Thomas Shannon Donmoyer
                                                                           February 4, 1967 – September 8, 2026

Thomas Shannon Donmoyer passed away on September 8, 2026, at the age of 59. He was born on February 4, 1967, in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, to Thomas Donmoyer and Linda Delarm.

Thomas was a man you simply didn’t forget. He had one of the biggest hearts anyone could ever have – and, depending on the day, he could also be the meanest, angriest man you ever met. That was Thomas. He never pretended to be anyone other than exactly who he was.

Underneath that tough exterior was a man who cared deeply about the people in his life. If you needed something, Thomas would give you the shirt off his back – or, perhaps an even greater sacrifice in his eyes, his last beer. He loved hard, lived on his own terms, and left plenty of stories behind for the people who were fortunate enough to know him.

Thomas loved the outdoors, especially fishing and hunting. Some of his happiest times were spent with a fishing pole in his hand, out hunting, or simply enjoying the outdoors and the freedom that came with it.

Thomas is survived by his wife, Janet Donmoyer; his daughter, Lilly Phelps; his adopted son, Anthony Muzzy; his brother, Dale Donmoyer; his nephew, Curtis Blunk; and his niece, Andrea Gray, along with many family members and friends who will miss him dearly.

Thomas was preceded in death by his father, Thomas Donmoyer; his mother, Linda Delarm; his sister, Debby Blunk; and his nephew, Tony Blunk.

Thomas wasn’t perfect, and he probably wouldn’t have wanted an obituary that pretended he was. He could make you laugh, make you mad, and sometimes do both within five minutes. But when it truly mattered, Thomas had a heart as big as they came.

He will be remembered for his stubbornness, his temper, his generosity, his love of fishing and hunting, and above all, for being unapologetically Thomas.

Rest easy, Thomas. May the fish always be biting, the hunting always be good, and the beer always be cold. You will be deeply missed and never forgotten.