There are songs you sing to the world — and there are songs you sing to the one you’ve lost. This winter, Sharon Osbourne has done the impossible.
She’s turned grief into melody. Forever Mine, her first and final song dedicated to Ozzy, is not just a recording; it’s a love letter written in the language of memory, a farewell whispered through music. It is the sound of devotion refusing to fade.
The video opens in silence. Sharon sits alone by the lake in their Buckinghamshire garden — the place Ozzy always called his peace. The light is soft, almost sacred. A grand piano waits in front of her, its polished surface reflecting the winter sky. The keys glimmer like falling tears. She hesitates, then rests her hands on the ivory. What follows is not performance. It is confession.
Her voice trembles as she begins, fragile and unguarded. 💬 “You said love never dies,” she breathes. “So I’ll keep singing till I find you.” The line feels less sung than spoken, as if she’s speaking directly to him, across the distance that separates life from whatever comes next. The melody unfolds slowly, each note carrying the weight of shared decades — the chaos, the laughter, the storms they survived together.
Behind her, the wind stirs the branches of the crab apple tree — the same one Ozzy planted years ago and where, now, his ashes rest beneath the roots. The camera lingers on it, the branches trembling in the chill air. It is impossible not to feel his presence there — not as ghost or memory, but as the quiet energy that fills the space between every word she sings.
For fans, Forever Mine is more than music. It’s the closing chapter of one of rock’s most extraordinary love stories. For half a century, Sharon and Ozzy Osbourne were partners in every sense: in business, in battle, in survival. Together they turned chaos into art, pain into purpose. When Ozzy’s health began to decline, Sharon became his anchor, his fiercest protector. Now, even in death, that role endures — through song.
The track builds gently, layered with strings and soft piano, until Sharon’s voice cracks on the final chorus. The production is intimate, leaving space for silence — the kind that lingers after a heartbeat ends. When the last note fades, she closes her eyes. There’s no applause, no fade-out. Just stillness.
It is, in its essence, a vow. One heartbeat. One love. Forever Mine.
Music journalists who’ve heard the song describe it as “achingly honest” and “devastatingly human.” It is not written for charts or radio, but for the man who once stood beside her on every stage of life. It’s the echo of a partnership that defined not only an era of music, but an era of love — imperfect, unbreakable, and immortal.
In the final scene, Sharon lifts her gaze toward the tree. The wind calms. The water stills. And though the camera never moves, something shifts — as if the air itself exhales. You almost expect to hear him, that unmistakable voice murmuring a laugh or a lyric.
But there is only silence. A holy kind of silence.
And in that silence, Sharon Osbourne finds her answer — that love, indeed, never dies.
