Two of Ozzy Osbourne’s most private children, Jessica and Louis Osbourne, found their own quiet way to say goodbye to their father this week.
While the world reeled from the news that the Black Sabbath legend had died at 76, and an official family statement circled the globe, the siblings Ozzy shared with his first wife Thelma Riley chose subtle, deeply personal gestures online.
Louis, 50, turned his Facebook profile image into a simple black square. No caption. No explanation. Just a digital moment of silence.
Jessica reposted a tribute from the “On With Mario Lopez” podcast on her Instagram Stories and added three small words above it: “RIP Ozzy.” It was understated, heartfelt and very much in keeping with two children who grew up largely away from the flashbulbs that later defined the Osbournes’ fame.
On Tuesday the family confirmed Ozzy had passed earlier that day. "It is with more sadness than mere words can convey that we have to report that our beloved Ozzy Osbourne has passed away this morning," the statement read.
"He was with his family and surrounded by love. We ask everyone to respect our family privacy at this time," it continued, and was signed by Sharon, Aimee, Kelly, Jack and Louis. No additional details about the Prince of Darkness’s death were shared.
Ozzy’s final months had been marked by determination and declining health. He had lived for years with Parkinson’s disease and ongoing complications from a serious spinal injury, conditions he spoke about openly and often. Earlier this month he took the stage one last time, performing a farewell show with his Black Sabbath bandmates at Villa Park Stadium in Birmingham, the city where it all began.
His final Instagram post was a nod to that night and to the band of brothers who shaped heavy metal: Tony Iommi, Bill Ward and Geezer Butler.
Conspicuously absent from the family’s official tribute were Jessica and Elliot, the latter Thelma’s son from a previous relationship whom Ozzy adopted.
Their omission sparked fresh curiosity about the rocker’s complicated first marriage and the children who rarely appeared on camera. The truth is, their relationship with Ozzy was always more complicated than a press release could capture.
Jessica, born in 1972, spoke candidly about that fractured bond in the 2011 documentary "God Bless Ozzy Osbourne."
"My recollection from my childhood with dad is that he’d be away for very long periods of time, and there’d always be a period of adjustment when he came home, and then it’d get to normality and then he’d go again,” she said. "So, it was a very erratic childhood with dad." Those words land differently now, framed by grief and the muted tributes she and Louis chose this week.
The contrast between Ozzy’s public family, Sharon and their children Aimee, Kelly and Jack, and his first family has always been stark.
The Osbournes’ MTV reality show made the younger trio household names in the early 2000s, while Jessica and Louis stayed largely off screen. Yet the loss is no smaller for being private. Louis’s black square and Jessica’s repost speak to a love that existed outside the spotlight, complicated and real.
For Sharon, this moment is the culmination of a lifetime spent at Ozzy’s side. Their love story was often turbulent but always fierce, and her presence was constant through rehab stints, hospital stays and those career-resurrecting tours. In the end she was there again, along with the children who grew up in the glare of fame and the ones who did not.
Fans had been bracing for heartbreaking news. Over the past year, rumors about Ozzy’s health and even morbid speculation about assisted suicide swirled.
Kelly Osbourne publicly shut down some of the wildest chatter just days before her father died, reminding people that gossip has real consequences for real families. When the official announcement finally came, it felt both shocking and inevitable.
Ozzy’s final performance at Villa Park was a sentimental homecoming. Seated for much of the show because of his injuries, he leaned on charisma and grit to deliver a farewell worthy of the man who once bit the head off a bat onstage. That night was less about shock value and more about closure. He had something to prove to himself: that even with Parkinson’s and pain, he could still summon the roar.
In the hours after his death was confirmed, tributes poured in from across music and pop culture. Fans shared memories of first concerts and late-night TV appearances. Musicians called him a pioneer, a blueprint, a survivor. Fashion magazines celebrated the leather, the eyeliner and the sense of theater. Industry insiders reminded everyone of Ozzfest, the touring festival he and Sharon launched in 1996 that gave countless metal acts a stage.













