By Ellie Henman
TO the sound of the fantastic Bostin Brass Band, Ozzy’s cortege passed slowly along Broad Street.
Along with the bursts of applause from the thousands of devoted fans who had lined up to say goodbye, the procession was everything Ozzy would have wanted.
This day was, as he had hoped, a celebration of his life and his legacy.
His heart however, I know, would have broken to see his wife Sharon, held up by her son Jack, breaking down in tears in front of the sea of flowers that had been laid for him at the Black Sabbath bridge.
Those close enough to Sharon shouted out to her and applauded in a small gesture of support.
Today was no doubt one of the most difficult days of Sharon’s life.
My heart ached as I saw Jack, Aimee, Kelly and Louis standing shoulder to shoulder in the city their father made so proud.
Losing your husband, your father, is difficult enough. Sharing that grief, although they wanted to, would have been incredibly hard.
This afternoon’s procession was the first of two fitting farewells to the Prince of Darkness who would have no doubt made a joke about all the fuss.
As Ozzy himself said, there was no such thing as death for him.
“I will retire when I hear the nail go in the box and then I will do an encore,” he joked last year.
“I am the Prince of Darkness.”
Tomorrow Sharon, their children, and Ozzy’s closest friends will gather at a church in Gerrards Cross to say their final goodbyes to the pioneer of heavy metal music.
Ozzy, I have been told, will then be laid to rest in the family’s Buckinghamshire home where he made so many happy memories.
The pain of his loss will never go away for those closest to him and for the fans who held him up as an icon.
But with his music, Ozzy’s legacy will continue to inspire and delight generations to come.
