The day that my beloved Ozzy Osbourne would make his final journey through the streets of Birmingham had arrived. I sat on my sofa at home on 30 July 2025, tears welling as the television live‑stream flickered to life. Ozzy Osbourne, our Prince of Darkness – born in Aston and raised in Birmingham – was making his final journey through the city he never left in spirit. From my home, miles away, I watched the funeral cortege travel down Broad Street, a purple floral tribute that spelled “Ozzy” adorning his coffin, its passage echoed by thousands of mourners lining the streets in hushed tribute.

The event was paid for by the family so that Ozzy could travel through his beloved Birmingham one final time, and put together in record time. At just after 1.00pm BST the cortege appeared, moving slowly with police on motorcycles in front. It was accompanied by the stirring notes of Bostin’ Brass, a local brass band playing Black Sabbath riffs such as “Iron Man”, a tribute that echoed in both mourning and celebration.

Through the screen: Sharon’s heartbreak, a family in mourning

When the funeral cortege stopped by the Black Sabbath bridge in Broad Street so the family could get out and see the tributes left by the public there, my heart broke as the camera panned to Sharon Osbourne as she got out of the car. She looked so frail, she was trembling, and you could see she was fighting back her tears. The grief she was going through was etched all over her face, she wore a long black dress and a long gold chain around her neck along with Ozzy’s wedding ring on it. Her composure shattered as she approached the Black Sabbath bridge, a place already sacred in Birmingham and sacred to many Black Sabbath and Ozzy fans around the world. Supported on either side by her children Jack and Kelly, as well as her other daughter Aimee and Ozzy’s son Louis from his first marriage to Thelma Riley, she leaned heavily into their arms before laying purple flowers at the memorial bench.

It was impossible not to see how fragile Sharon appeared, her grief raw and public. Tears streamed down her face. At one point, with shaking fingers wrapped around grief, she raised a peace sign in Ozzy’s memory. My heart shattered into a million pieces all over again, I wanted to reach out through my TV screen and give Sharon the biggest, biggest hug and say to her that everything will be okay, that I understand her grief. I think the whole nation could relate to how she felt in that moment.

Around her, Kelly, Jack, Louis, and Aimee stood solemnly. Kelly wore round sunglasses, echoing her father which broke my heart even more. Louis wore a purple tie as an understated homage to his father. The solidarity between them was heartbreakingly clear: this was a family united in grief, yet united in love.

Thousands of fans paying tribute to a son of Birmingham

Thousands of fans clad in leather jackets, Ozzy T‑shirts, tattoos of bats and Sabbath logos lined the route. I wish I had been one of them. They chanted “Ozzy! Ozzy! Ozzy! Oi! Oi! Oi!”, clapped and wept. Some laid flowers, others left bottles of Jack Daniel’s or banners declaring “Ozzy Lives Forever.”

As the cortege passed Villa Park, site of his final show barely three weeks earlier, the mood felt electric, a mixture of mourning and celebration. The place where Ozzy had given his home fans one last hurrah now watched his last farewell.

When the procession stopped at the Black Sabbath Bridge, it felt like time halted. Sharon and her children laid flowers, kissed the bench memorial, then rejoined the procession. Solemn, dignified, but shattered. My tears soaked my cheeks as I watched.

My thoughts, in real time

Watching from home, memories flooded in. That gig at Villa Park “Back to the Beginning” in early July was a reminder that Ozzy left on his own terms. I wrote about that show with pride; it was a legendary finale for a legend.

Seeing Sharon who is usually strong and larger than life so vulnerable ripped through me deeper than I expected. Seeing Jack, Kelly, Aimee, Louis holding her up, standing together, conveyed more than words ever could. It was human grief, laid bare.

A final salute

Ozzy Osbourne returned to Birmingham not just for a concert, but to be laid to rest in the city that made him. The cortege was both intimate and public: private sorrow, citywide reverence. It felt fitting that his final path would wind through the streets where his voice echoed first.

As twilight fell and the public farewell ended, a private ceremony awaited the family. But the city had said its goodbye. From my living room, I grieved too with tears, with gratitude, with memory.

Ozzy soared louder than life. And when legends die, it’s not just the music they leave behind that brings back memories, it is the shared stories, the final silences. Birmingham gave him a warrior’s send‑off. Sharon and the family gave him love until the last breath. At home, I gave him tears, and time stood still.

RIP Ozzy. Forever in playlists, forever in our hearts❤️