Preface
I didn’t expect it to feel like this. But it does. Ozzy Osbourne is dead.
And something inside me has gone quiet. Something that always used to scream.
I don’t know what to write.
I just know it hurts.
Ozzy Osbourne is dead.
It’s strange… I didn’t actually believe he’d live forever – and still, somehow, I did.
He was always there. In the background. In my headphones. In the soundtrack of my life.
That voice that cut through everything.
That carried pain, power, madness.
He was never just music – he was emotion, force, defiance.
And now it’s quiet.
But not really.
Because Ozzy isn’t someone you forget.
He’s screamed himself into my heart – and there he stays.
I grieve him as if he were mine.
Maybe he was.
A part of my youth. A part of me.
I managed to write a tribute while he was still alive.
Now I’m writing the other one. The one that hurts.
Read my earlier tribute to Ozzy here:
Ozzy, Ozzy, Ozzy – a tribute while he’s still here
“You can’t kill rock ’n’ roll – it’s here to stay.”
– Ozzy Osbourne
– What does Ozzy mean to you?
- Did you listen to him when no one else understood?
- What does his voice stir in you?
- Do you remember the first time you heard “Crazy Train” or “Mama, I’m Coming Home”?
This isn’t just a farewell to an artist. It’s a farewell to a piece of myself – the younger version who lived with Ozzy in their ears, who carried rage, longing, sorrow, and fire. And at the same time, a quiet promise: never to forget.
#OzzyOsbourne #RestInPeaceOzzy #RockLegend #BlackSabbathForever #MusicLivesOn
Final words
This day took a legend with it.
Tomorrow will echo without his voice.
But right now – in the silence after the last note – the memory still plays.
Right now is what matters. -Carina Ikonen Nilsson