When the news broke that Ozzy Osbourne had passed away on 22 July 2025, I felt as though a mighty chapter of music history had come to an end, I was absolutely heartbroken. For me, and I know for so many others, Ozzy was more than a singer. He was a symbol of resilience, defiance, and raw, working-class spirit.

Hearing The News

I was out having dinner with my good friend Sylvia to celebrate her recent birthday. We were chatting away while enjoying our food which was absolutely delicious, when suddenly I heard my phone ring. It was my close friend Dianna Morikawa in California, but by the time I scrabbled to get my phone out of my bag it had stopped ringing. Knowing it was highly unusal for Dianna to call me on a weekday evening, I knew immediately that something must be wrong and I thought for a moment that something might have happened to her beloved husky boy Bowie (my Poppy’s USA boyfriend and my gorgeous fur nephew). So I rang Dianna back, and she broke the news to me that Ozzy had passed away. I was in utter shock, I could hardly speak – just over 2 weeks ago he was singing his heart out in Villa Park in Birmingham. I checked my phone and sure enough, the news was everywhere and it was true. The Prince of Darkness had left us.

A Homecoming Too Short

I still recall Ozzy’s final stand on 5 July 2025 at Villa Park in Birmingham. As I watched the livestream from home, I felt a surge of joy and sorrow intertwined. It was a monumental performance, filled with emotion and proof of his unbreakable spirit in the face of Parkinson’s and spinal challenges, something I wrote about in this review of the event. Watching him sing Mama I’m Coming Home, my own grief surfaced. My losses, my diagnosis journey, my neurodivergent struggles all echoed in his voice. His courage resonated deeply with me, reminding me how trauma can be both a teacher and a catalyst.

One of my all time favourite Ozzy quotes was when he was being interviewed about the urban myth that Ozzy and the other members of Black Sabbath were into black magic and satanists. In response to a question about this, Ozzy replied: “I’m not into black magic for f**s sake. The only thing I can conjure up is a good fart in bed in the mornings.” How he made me laugh when he said that, it is still one of my all time favourite quotes to this day.

A Legacy of Acceptance

Long before that moment, I wrote that Ozzy Osbourne is as mad as a box of frogs (and that’s what I love about him). Even if his voice wasn’t what it used to be, I urged people to give him a break. What I witnessed in that final performance was something even greater. He was no longer the man of his prime, but he was still authentically, brilliantly himself.

I never thought that I would ever say this, but the final Ozzy and Black Sabbath performances at Villa Park in Birmingham on 5 July 2025 were definitely on a par with the peformance that Queen and Freddie Mercury gave at Live Aid on 13 July 1985. Not better than, but definitely equal to. Both performances are iconic to me, and ones I know I will never tire of watching.

Birmingham’s Soul and Mine

Ozzy wasn’t just mine. He belonged to Birmingham. His final performance wasn’t only a concert, it was a pilgrimage back home. Like thousands of others, I wanted to be there. But for me, the thought of navigating the noise and crowd would have meant unbearable sensory overload. Still, my heart was there, in that stadium, sharing every riff, every lyric, and every roar of admiration for the Ozzy who I grew up with. From belting out “Paranoid” at the top of my voice when I was 5 years old to seeing him live with and without Black Sabbath over the years, Ozzy was always there, always alongside me. And now, suddenly, he wasn’t.

Loss Cuts Deep, But So Do Memories

His death feels like losing a piece of my own past, my culture, and my identity. But these same feelings are a gift. They are fuel for grief, and more importantly, fuel for celebration.

  • A celebration of resilience – Ozzy kept singing despite his very poor health, despite being ravaged by Parkinson’s Disease, and despite what his critics and naysayers said.

  • A celebration of courage – he was before millions at Villa Park in Birmingham on 5 July, sitting not standing, and knowing he was vulnerable.

  •  A celebration of working-class pride – from Aston to world stages, he never forgot where he began and he never forgot that he was a working class lad from Aston in Birmingham. No matter how famous he became (or infamous thanks to biting a head off a bat on stage in the 1980s), he remained true to his roots and didn’t get to big for his boots (sorry – the poet in me came out then).

What I Will Carry Always From Ozzy Osbourne

Quite simply, Ozzy’s life reminds me of three simple truths.

  1. It’s okay not to be perfect, especially when life isn’t either.

  2. Authenticity matters, whether in music, life, your identity, or struggles.

  3. Even with pain and illness, we can still choose to give something back. To our fans, to our communities, and to our pasts.

So today, I light a candle in memory of my love and idol Ozzy Osbourne, and my thoughts are with Sharon and all his family at this sad time. Thank you for showing us how to live loud Ozzy, how to fight with grace, and how to say goodbye in style – and boy did you say goodbye to us all in style. His voice will echo forever in my playlists, and he will live forever in my heart.

In memory of a legend. In respect of a survivor.

🖤 Lisa Ventura MBE FCIIS
Cyber Geek Girl
July 23, 2025