William D. Fitzwater

The best place to understand Fitz's heart was on a Saturday morning, around the kitchen counter. Here was the convergence of a week of work, a week of life, and a lifetime of experiences that always unfolded in an energetic, yet stubborn decree-all while making his signature homemade biscuits. We didn't know it then, but in those moments, Fitz was defining the rules he lived by and imparting on us a philosophy on how to live. He was teaching us, and we didn't even know it.

On Friday, March 20th, 2026, at 11:56 p.m., William "Fitz" Fitzwater passed away from a fast and private battle with pancreatic cancer. He's survived by his two sons, Aaron, and Josh. In the moments before he let go, he was surrounded by family and his dear friend Vivian Fedorke. In his death, he leaves behind over forty decades of molding, shaping, pushing, and pulling generations of young men and women who came to him as wide-eyed, malleable learners.

You see, Fitz's legacy extends beyond his immediate family. The real legacy he left was imprinting a part of his philosophy on the incalculable number of students he taught at Rosecrans High School. Fitz was a rule follower but had a disdain for the status quo. So, he taught his classes with a feverish humor and profound ferocity. The classroom was his temple. A temple where he challenged his young pupils to think differently and expect from life what you contribute to it.

If the classroom was his temple, his woodworking studio was his playground. There was only so much expression possible within the walls of a Catholic school, so he flourished and untethered in art. He was an avid woodworker and artist whose ideas and creative appetite were always more than his dedication to finish a project. For Fitz, the joy was in the exploration, not the execution. He was prudent but whimsical.

Like himself, the music, and movies he loved had a distinct taste. On those Saturday mornings at the kitchen counter, the gravelly garble of Bob Dylan or the nasally, muted cadence of crooner Leon Redbone reverberated through the house. His love for the counterculture avant-garde made Fitz an immense fantasy and sci-fi aficionado. His all-time favorite book, Watership Down, is about a group of rabbits' perilous journey to find a new home, which was a veiled way to convey themes of leadership, freedom, oppression, and the harsh reality of nature.

In this book, the protagonist Hazel mourns the death of her friend and whispers, "My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today."

To that, I'll say: May we all find someone with which we can share a kitchen counter.

The Bryan & Hardwick Funeral Home, 2318 Maple Ave. Zanesville, is in charge of local arrangements.