The news of Ozzy Osbourne’s passing hit me harder than I expected. It’s strange how someone you’ve never truly known can leave such a void when they’re gone. But Ozzy wasn’t just a legend—he was my legend. One of the voices that shaped me, long before I ever stepped on a stage myself.

The First Time I Heard Him

I grew up in small-town Oklahoma, where country and gospel were the soundtracks of life. But then I heard “Crazy Train”—that riff, that voice, that energy—and something clicked. Here was a man who didn’t just sing; he howled. He was unapologetically himself, and it made me realize music didn’t have to fit in a box. It could be loud, wild, and free.

When Ozzy Noticed Me

Years later, when he praised my voice, I was floored. The Ozzy Osbourne knew who I was? It felt surreal. I’d covered his songs in my car, at soundchecks—never imagining he’d ever hear them. But that was Ozzy: generous, sharp, and forever championing music he loved, no matter the genre.

What I’ll Remember Most

• The Fearlessness – Ozzy didn’t just push boundaries; he obliterated them. He made it okay to be different.

• The Humor – Behind the bat-biting myth was a man who could laugh at himself. That duality—dark yet playful—was magic.

• The Loyalty – The way he spoke about Sharon, his fans, and his bandmates showed a heart as big as his voice.

Goodbye to the Man Who Made Metal Feel Like Home

The world lost an icon today, but I lost a quiet mentor—one who never knew how much he inspired a girl from Checotah to sing louder, take risks, and own her weirdness. Rest easy, Prince of Darkness. Thank you for the chaos, the anthems, and the permission to scream into the mic.

“I’ll never fill your shoes, but I’ll keep cranking your music… and maybe steal a little of that courage you left behind.”
— Carrie Underwood