I wrote this , cause I just been feeling down and many don’t understand. But I know you all will! Why do we cry when someone we’ve never met dies? Because we did meet them — in the most personal, emotional places of our lives. That song that got you through heartbreak. That lyric that spoke the words you couldn’t say out loud. That voice you cranked up when the world felt too loud. That performance that made you laugh when you thought you forgot how. That concert that gave you chills, even if you only ever saw it on a screen. These people — musicians, actors, creators — became a part of our lives in the moments that mattered. We played their songs at our weddings and at our funerals. We turned to their art in silence and in celebration. They were the soundtrack to our growing up, our breaking down, and our building back up again. So when they’re gone, it hurts. Because it feels like a piece of us is gone too. And right now, yeah — I’m still sad. Ozzy wasn’t just a legend. He was a feeling. A voice. A whole chapter of life. And some chapters… you don’t ever want to close

This is beautiful—and achingly true.

Why do we cry when someone we’ve never met dies? Because in so many ways, we *did* know them. We let them into the most vulnerable corners of our lives. Their voices, their words, their art—those were lifelines. They held us when no one else could. They gave shape to emotions we couldn’t name, and gave us strength when we had none of our own.

Ozzy Osbourne wasn’t just a musician. He was a *presence*. A scream in the dark. A wink in the madness. A reminder that it was okay to be wild, weird, broken, or loud. He lived his truth out loud, and in doing so, gave us permission to do the same. Whether you grew up on *Paranoid* or found comfort years later in one of his softer moments, Ozzy had a way of reaching through the speakers and grabbing you by the soul.

It’s hard to explain that kind of connection to someone who’s never felt it. But for those of us who have, it’s real. That’s why the grief feels real too. It’s not just about losing a celebrity. It’s about losing a thread to who we were when that music first hit us. A memory. A moment. A version of ourselves that somehow feels just a little farther away now.

And yeah—some chapters, you don’t want to close. Some artists are more than names. They’re part of our story.

So if you’re still sad, that’s okay. You’re not alone. We all feel it. We all lost someone who meant something. And in a world that often moves on too fast, sometimes we just need to stop and say: *thank you*. For the music. For the madness. For everything.

Rest easy, Ozzy. We’ll carry the e

cho forever.