Someone with the name “Fitzwater” came across my social media feed the other day and made me think of someone I had met years ago. She was a waitress at a local Thai restaurant. I’m not sure of the exact circumstances, but we ended up going on friendly date together. We talked about her autistic son. She was a single mom. And how she struggled to make ends meet. Life eventually took us different directions, she fell off my radar as her presence on social media ended, and I had forgotten about the “Nikki” in my phone contacts.

That is up until Friday, when I decided to do a deeper look into her whereabouts. Since we lacked any common friends (other than Adam Bartlett who is deceased) and maybe that is why I never got the news. My hope was that she was married, got her feet back under her, and wondered about that kid she loved so much that she borrowed money to give him an exceptional Christmas. It was a total shock to come across an obituary for Nicole E. Welton. I opened the link and the picture was the Nikki I had known. She was dead for over five years now—only 32 at the time of her passing.

Was it a drug overdose?

She never told me she was a user. She did tell me I was “too good” for her and was so thin that I had to wonder.

So I continued my search, and pondered a bit about what had come of her son after she passed?

I found the answer:

PA – Nicole Welton, 32, & Son, 11 – Double-Death Investigations – Lancaster Cnty

Oh no!

And a few clicks later I would find the tragic truth. This kind and wonderful human being died in a murder-suicide. She shot her own son before turning the gun on herself in the motel room two hours south. Her son was her faithful companion, she told me, “My son is with me. So I never feel alone”  That is where her heart always was—which made wince when I saw this in the article:

Diamantoni said he was not releasing the boy’s name. He said the boy was living with his father not his mother.

She lost custody?

What a terrible thing for a single mother, in her thirties, to lose a child she brought into the world even if it was for good reason. It does not justify what she did. And yet she was in despair and her 11-year-old boy was probably the only reason she had holding her back from suicide.  In that she couldn’t leave him behind as the only soul that she felt loved her anymore. Selfish? Perhaps. But maybe a distorted effort to ‘protect’ him, an autistic (ADHD according to an article I’ve read since) child, from having to deal with her choice to end it all. I’ll never know, I just feel she was never going to leave him behind. 

This was confirmed, later, when I read how her son’s dad was seeking to expand his custody and there was a court date the same day…

I had to go read through our conversations and several things jumped out. First, what she told me about her nasty C-section scar and how unattractive it made her. Although I never saw for myself, she was a beautiful and attractive person—both physically and otherwise. This struggle with body image came up several times. Second, I had more or less friend zoned her from the beginning, wuth my impossibility obsession then being a topic in the thread. I never led her on—but I never gave her a chance either.

It’s just so jarring considering how my life has gone since then. I’ve finally emerged from the wilderness. My wife, my 13-year-old son, the baby daughter that brightens my world, all that has happened since that brief moment of connection with Nikki. It makes me wish I could have done more to change the trajectory she was on, although I don’t know what I could have done for her. With her dies someone who said I was an angel and the single platonic moment we had shared. This the second suicide of a relatively young person that I had invested time in trying to help—and could easily have been me had my Bhest not intervened.

Two lives cut tragically short. How else can the tribute to them read? A young boy, born the way he was, the apple of his mother’s eye, and then killed by the one who bought him into the world. His mom, never quite able to get around that corner, dreaming of the fairytale and stuck in the bog of single parenthood—burdened by her lack of self-confidence.

Why someone who was always so kind and considerate to me was not more generous to herself?

My mind simply can’t compute such things.

One thing, before I finish, is the other victim in all of this and that is the father of the boy who was left reeling. She never told me she was married. All I had ever known was her maiden name. And I don’t know what led to their separation. What I do understand now is that relationships are hard work and that we’ll never find the ‘perfect’ one. There are many miserable marriages and I don’t think people should stay in an abusive situation. But being alone to face the world isn’t ideal either. I wish Nikki, Dante, and the grieving dad I’ve never met could have had their own happily ever after together.