I sat down to listen to The Osbournes Podcast episode “Remembering Ozzy: The Osbournes Unfiltered on Grief, Legacy & Love” with a box of tissues at the ready, and I’m not ashamed to say I went through nearly the entire box. This wasn’t just another celebrity grief episode, this was Sharon, Kelly, and Jack Osbourne opening their hearts and showing us the raw, unfiltered reality of what it’s like when you lose someone who was the absolute centre of your universe.

As someone who’s openly neurodivergent and lives with complex PTSD, I understand all too well what grief can do to a person. When Freddie Mercury died in 1991, I was inconsolable. When Princess Diana died in 1997, I sobbed for days. And when Ozzy passed on 22 July 2025, I was absolutely devastated. Listening to his family speak about their loss felt intensely personal, like being invited into their living room during their darkest hour.

The Waves Keep Coming

What struck me most was Sharon’s description of grief coming in “waves.” She’s absolutely spot on with that. It’s not a linear thing, is it? One moment you’re managing, getting through the day, and then suddenly something triggers a memory and you’re drowning all over again. Her admission that she hates going to bed at night, that sleeping alone after 43 years of marriage is one of the hardest parts, that absolutely broke me. The intimacy of that confession, the vulnerability of admitting that the simple act of closing your eyes at night has become unbearable, that’s the kind of honest grief we rarely hear about.

Kelly sleeping beside her mum for the first two months after Ozzy’s death? That’s pure love, that is. That’s what families do when the world falls apart, they hold each other up. I did exactly that with my beloved Aunty Marie when my Uncle Frank passed away in October 1992, I stayed with her and slept beside her at her house for two months after he died. As someone who understands what it’s like when your brain doesn’t cooperate with what you need it to do, I felt every word of Kelly’s struggle with mornings. That three-second window where everything feels normal, and then the crushing weight of reality hits you all over again, I know that feeling intimately from my own trauma from when I lost my much loved, wanted and only son to stillbirth on 29 November 2013. It’s brutal. It’s relentless. And there’s absolutely no escaping it.

Jack’s Beautiful Wisdom

Jack Osbourne’s observation that grief is “both horrible and beautiful in the way it forces you to unpack and examine things” is perhaps one of the most profound things I’ve heard anyone say about loss. He’s right, isn’t he? Grief strips away all the superficial stuff and forces you to confront what really matters. It makes you examine your relationships, your priorities, your very existence. It’s uncomfortable as hell, but there’s something almost sacred about that process.

His gentle reminder to Sharon – “How blessed are we to have had a dad like him?” – that’s the perspective we all need when we’re drowning in grief. Yes, the loss is devastating. Yes, the pain is unbearable. But my God, what a privilege to have loved someone so much that their absence leaves such a massive hole in your life. That’s not a consolation exactly, but it is a truth worth holding onto.

Ozzy’s Humility and Love

What really got me was Sharon’s comment that Ozzy would never have believed how much he was loved and that that he never took it for granted from anyone. As someone who watched that final Villa Park performance from my sofa on 5 July 2025 with my home cinema system deployed, sobbing my heart out, I can tell you that Ozzy was loved beyond measure. But the fact that he remained humble, that he never let fame make him arrogant or detached from reality, that’s Birmingham through and through. Working-class to his core, never forgetting where he came from.

The family discussing Ozzy’s determination to perform that final show, knowing it would take everything out of him – that’s the Ozzy I knew and loved. Mad as a box of frogs, but authentic to his last breath. When Tony Iommi said he thought Ozzy “held out to do that show” and that it was like Ozzy saying goodbye to the fans, it makes that Villa Park performance even more significant. It wasn’t just a concert; it was a living wake. A final gift from a man who gave us everything he had for decades.

The Public Grief

Kelly’s comparison of the public reaction to Princess Diana’s death resonated deeply with me. I remember Diana’s death in 1997, the unprecedented outpouring of grief, the flowers at Kensington and Buckingham Palaces, the nation in mourning. And yes, when Ozzy died, there was something similar happening. Not royal grief, but the grief of millions who felt they’d lost someone who understood them, who’d been the soundtrack to their lives, who’d shown them it was okay to be different, to be broken, to be gloriously imperfect.

The family’s discussion about dealing with fake tributes and vultures after someone dies, that’s the dark side of public grief that most people don’t see. When you’re trying to process your own pain, you’ve also got to deal with people trying to profit from it, or fake their connection to it, or somehow make it about themselves. It’s exhausting and adds another layer of pain to an already unbearable situation.

Why This Matters

This podcast episode matters because it shows us that grief doesn’t discriminate. Whether you’re rock royalty or just an ordinary person from the Midlands like me, loss devastates you the same way. The Osbournes didn’t have to record this episode. They could have retreated into private mourning, and no one would have blamed them. But they chose to share their pain, their memories, their love, and in doing so, they’ve given us all permission to grieve openly, to admit when we’re struggling, to acknowledge that sometimes the waves of grief threaten to drown us.

As someone who has been through a tremendous amount of grief loss and trauma in my lifetime, I recognise the immense courage it takes to be this vulnerable in public. Sharon, Kelly, and Jack have given us a masterclass in authentic grief – messy, painful, beautiful, and ultimately life-affirming.

Final Thoughts

If you’ve lost someone you loved, if you’re struggling with grief, if you’re trying to navigate life after loss, listen to this podcast episode. Not because it will make the pain go away (nothing will), but because it will remind you that you’re not alone in your suffering. That grief is normal. That waves are normal. That three-second windows of forgetting followed by crushing remembrance are normal. That it’s okay to fall apart. That it’s okay to need your family. That it’s okay to admit this is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

The Osbournes have lost their heartbeat, but they’re still here, still fighting, still holding each other up. And if they can do it after losing Ozzy, then we can keep fighting through our own battles too.

Thank you, Sharon, Kelly, and Jack, for your honesty, your vulnerability, and for sharing your beloved Ozzy with us one more time. There will truly never be another like him.

RIP Ozzy. Forever in our playlists, and forever in our hearts. 🖤

Listen to the whole podcast here.