Weston Spiva

Weston Ray Spiva was born January 18, 1993 at the Blackwell Regional Hospital to Randy Spiva and Lea Anne Steelmon. He left this world with several more years left to spare; after only 28 years of happiness and memories.

Born and raised in Blackwell, Weston was brought up in a Catholic home. Before he could even drive, Weston could be seen all across town, riding bikes with his friends, chasing through the woods, and hitting up fishing spots along the river.

Weston played baseball and basketball through his early school years, although he cut his sports career short because he inherited his mom’s ankles. Weston was a member of the Gifted And Talented Students (GATS) and also took wood-shop classes with Mr. Cox. He graduated with the Class of 2011.

Afterward, Weston took classes at the Pioneer Technology Center in Ponca City, where he excelled at welding with his instructor, Ted Rowe.

Weston Spiva loved to travel and worked on the road ever since graduation. There wasn’t a work site across the nation where he didn’t make friends; lifelong, or for the weeks on site. Internationally, the islands of the Caribbean were graced by the warm smile of Blackwell’s sun and the heat of Thailand was nothing compared to Weston’s charm.

Weston had a radiant smile and could never look bad in a picture. Everyone knew his light and everyone has a “Weston story”. He was larger than life and whether it was ripping the lips off river monsters, throwing darts or corn-hole bags, or just having drinks at “The Ranch”, everything he did was beyond compare.

Weston was always ready to do anything with anyone and he would stay by your side the entire time. He was also never shy about admitting that he was “pretty tired” and that it was time to go to sleep.

One thing Weston loved more than anything else was turtles, because, perhaps like him, they were beings of nature. Majestic and kind, wise even in youth, slow and steady, they belong to the wild. They’d float along the river, popping up for air. They’d be born on the sandy beaches, racing for the glory of the ocean’s wild beyond; racing to survive in the endless blue of the wild to live among the fish and to find comfort in the dangers of the world.

There will always be an empty stool waiting at Johnny D’s or the VFW for him; an empty booth at Los Potros. There will always be a Weston-sized hole in the hearts of everyone who knew him and a lingering, vacant spot in the hearts of those that hadn’t met him yet; those who were destined to love him.

Weston left behind more than a hundred people who had their world darkened by the dimming of his light. Hearts that will always burn for him; hearts that will never stop loving him. A love that cannot and will not be extinguished.

Weston always loved to say “let’s get it going” and there’s no doubt that whatever “it” is, he would want every one of his friends, family, and loved ones to keep going in his memory.