Constance "Connie" Vazilla Weaver

With hearts full of love and sorrow, we graciously honor and remember the life of Constance 'Connie' Vazilla Dean Weaver, who passed away on March 11, 2025.

Born on a snowy night in 1948, her entrance into the world came with a name mix-up—her mother had chosen Connie Mae, but her father, unsure at the hospital, followed the gentle guidance of the nurses and officially named her Constance Vazilla Dean, incorporating her mother’s middle name. It was fitting, really—Connie was always a mix of strength and grace, a woman who carried the love of her family in every step she took.

Connie grew up on Division Street in South Parkersburg, West Virginia, where childhood was filled with family, laughter, and the familiar rhythm of small-town life. She attended Parkersburg High School, where she was one of over 1,100 students in the class of 1965. Shy by nature, she may not have been the loudest voice in the room, but her kindness and quiet strength spoke volumes to those lucky enough to know her.

Following her marriage to Charles “Chuck” Orvil Weaver in 1967, life took Connie to Jonesboro, Georgia, where she built a beautiful life with her beloved husband.

Always a reflection of the times, Connie fully embraced late 1960s and early 1970s fashion trends. As a true (in her words) "child of the Age of Aquarius," she had long hair that reached her knees and skirts that fell well above them. While she never regretted her youthful style, she later admitted that she "wouldn’t go to those extremes today."

For 46 years, she and Chuck were inseparable—partners in love, in adventure, in the quiet moments of everyday life. Though they never had children of their own, Connie and Chuck’s hearts were full, treasuring the love and laughter of their nieces and nephews, whether visiting them in the Mountain State or welcoming them to Atlanta with open arms.

Their happiest days were spent on Lake Hartwell, cruising on their boat, the water reflecting the easy, steady love they shared. At home in Jonesboro, they found peace in watching the wildlife in their backyard, marveling at the birds and deer that would visit. And when the Atlanta Braves were on, you could bet Connie was right there beside Chuck, cheering them on—because, for her, it wasn’t just about baseball; it was about being next to the person she loved most.

Connie had the soul of a nurturer, the kind of person who didn’t just say she cared—she showed it. When Chuck fell ill, she became his devoted caregiver, standing by him with unwavering love, strength, and patience. And when he was gone, she extended that same care to her friends and neighbors in Jonesboro, offering kindness and companionship in their time of need.

Faith was a steady and guiding presence in Connie’s life. She first found a church home at First Baptist Church in Jonesboro, where she built lasting connections and deepened her faith. Later, she became part of the congregation at Harps Crossing Baptist Church in Fayetteville, where she found fellowship, comfort, and a community that nurtured her spirit.

Five years ago, Connie made the bittersweet decision to return home to West Virginia, finding comfort in the home of her younger sister Ilona and her husband, Don Johnson, in Mineral Wells. Their time together was a gift—late-night talks, shared laughter, the quiet reassurance of family.

Connie was a storyteller, not in the way of grand speeches, but in the way she held onto memories and shared them with warmth. She recalled her childhood trips to Flint, Michigan, visiting her mother’s stepbrother Cotton, and how thrilling it felt to step across the river into Canada, a foreign country for the first time. She’d laugh about the time she and her cousins crammed into a small mobile home in South Carolina, a chaotic, joy-filled visit to Aunt Erna’s house, complete with a tour of the Charleston Naval Base, a battleship, and a submarine.

She loved the theater, the magic of grand performances, and the way a story could unfold before her eyes. She especially loved performances at The Fox Theatre and Atlanta Civic Center, believing that there was something truly special about being in the presence of live storytelling.

Connie worked in banking, first at Clayton County Bank and then National Bank of Georgia, a career that introduced her to fascinating people and left her with stories of her own. She once met a young Jay Rockefeller, long before he became Governor of West Virginia, and she never forgot the day Isaac Hayes—yes, Shaft himself—walked into her office, forever linking her to his legendary theme song.

In addition to her many roles in life, Connie dedicated years of hard work to Sadisco, an auto auction company that later became Verastar, where she built lasting friendships and left a quiet but meaningful mark. It was there that she showcased her diligence, reliability, and warm spirit, eventually retiring with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

One of the greatest lessons Connie carried through life came from her big brother, Danny—her very first "boss." At just 12 years old, Danny had a paper route, and Connie served as his trusted helper, delivering newspapers to eight houses that sat farther out from the rest of the route. Danny led not with words, but by example—he showed her what it meant to work with care, to show up no matter the weather, and to take pride in even the smallest responsibilities. That lesson stayed with Connie for the rest of her life. She carried it with her in the way she loved, in the way she gave, and in the way she always showed up—for family, for friends, and for anyone who needed her.

Her voice was soft, touched with a sweet Southern twang, but make no mistake—she was strong. Steadfast. A woman who loved deeply and without reservation.

Connie was a beloved wife, sister, aunt, and friend—someone whose kindness, humor, and warmth left an indelible mark on all who knew her.

Now at peace, she is reunited with those she held dear, including her cherished parents, Denver and Mattie, sister Jeannie, and her beloved husband, Chuck, with whom she shared a lifetime of love and companionship.

Her memory lives on in the hearts of those who loved her most: her brother, Danny Dean (Evelyn) of Parkersburg, and her sister, Ilona Dye Johnson (Don) of Mineral Wells. She was a devoted and loving aunt to Rachelle Sadler (Cliff) of Parkersburg, Amber Daggett (Ryan) of Mineral Wells, Amy Dye Westfall of Parkersburg, Andy Dye (Hannah) of Morgantown, and Ron Hill (Mariane) of Humble, Texas—each of whom carries forward the love and laughter she so freely gave.

Her legacy continues through her treasured great-nieces Chloe Daggett, Alyssa Hill, Genevieve and Charlotte Dye, and great-nephews Jeremy Daggett, Owen Westfall, Wyatt Sadler, Bryan Hill, and Holten and Thatcher Dye, who will grow up knowing the deep and abiding love of their great-aunt Connie.

She is also lovingly remembered by dear lifelong friends who became family in their own right, including Rose Kleppinger (her treasured neighbor of 46 years), John and Marilyn Barker, Judy Chalker, Mary Danielson, Vickie Gilliam, Dianne Jones, Barbara Killingsworth, and Sheila Mize.

Though she has left this world, Connie’s love, warmth, and gentle spirit remain woven into the hearts of all who had the privilege of knowing her.