Sharon Osbourne breaks down during farewell to Ozzy as her rarely seen daughter quietly walks beside her

When Sharon Osbourne appeared on the streets of Birmingham, clutching a pink flower wrapped in black, she wasn’t just walking—she was grieving as a widow.She walked as a woman holding the weight of a legacy. And beside her, not just Kelly or Jack, but Aimee — the daughter we almost never see — appeared quietly, as if the loss had pulled her out from the shadows for one final goodbye.

It was the first time we’d seen Sharon since Ozzy passed. The first time since the world lost not just a rock legend, but someone who, to many, felt like a messy, wild, and lovable uncle who somehow understood us.

The city of Birmingham came to a standstill. People lined the streets. Some sobbed, others shouted the name that had become more than just a name — “Ozzy! Ozzy! Ozzy!” As the brass band played Black Sabbath’s haunting melodies, it was clear this wasn’t just a funeral. This was a farewell to a soul who stitched himself into the fabric of countless lives.

Ozzy’s hearse rolled slowly past the house he grew up in, the same one where he first dreamt of music. Fans threw flowers. Grown men cried. A poster next to the Black Sabbath bench read, “Birmingham will always love you.” And it wasn’t a cliché. It felt like a promise.

Sharon hugged the Lord Mayor like an old friend, her face carrying the kind of grief that doesn’t need to scream to be heard. And behind her — Jack, Kelly, and Aimee, each carrying that single pink flower. That tiny detail said so much. One pink bloom from each of them, laid gently on a pile of tributes already overflowing. Quiet. Personal. Heavy.

Aimee’s presence especially struck people. She’s always chosen a life away from cameras, choosing silence over spectacle. But here she was, standing beside her mother and siblings, for Ozzy. For Dad.

Among the crowd was a fan named Goose, who said it better than most of us could:

“Ozzy was family. He gave us music that told us we weren’t alone. He made the weird kids feel seen. He helped us feel okay being different.”

And maybe that’s the real reason this hurts so deeply. Because Ozzy wasn’t just a frontman. He was permission to be strange, to be loud, to be vulnerable, and to still be loved.

One young woman from Wolverhampton, Evie, said she’s learning guitar just to play his music. That’s what Ozzy did — he didn’t just perform. He passed the torch to the next misfit kid trying to find their voice.

As the last chords of Black Sabbath faded into the Birmingham air and the soft pink flowers lay still on the bench, a silence settled—but it wasn’t empty.

It carried sorrow, yes. But also a raw, thunderous gratitude.

For the man who roared into the microphone like his soul was burning—and somehow lit a fire in all of us too.