Ozzy Osbourne’s voice and style, reflecting on his early impressions of Sharon and how their relationship evolved over the years. The tone balances rock ‘n’ roll grit with sincere emotion, blending memories of *Black Sabbath* with the emotional shift brought on by Sharon’s entrance into his life.
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**Ozzy Osbourne Reflects: “When I First Met Sharon…”**
*By Ozzy Osbourne (as told through an intimate recollection)*
When I first met Sharon, I’ll be honest—I didn’t think too much of it. She wasn’t what I expected, not at all. At that time in my life, everything revolved around *Black Sabbath*—MUSIC was taking shape, and I was consumed by it, by *them*, by the thunder of the guitars, the pounding drums, the roar of the crowd. My life was noise—beautiful, blistering noise. Romance? It wasn’t on my radar. Love? That was a song I hadn’t written yet.
But—Sharon—she walked into my life like a different kind of melody. Not loud, not flamboyant, just real. I was used to the chaos of *Sabbath*—wild nights, wrecked hotel rooms, drugs, booze, noise, more noise. And she was steady—firm, thoughtful, sincere. A calm in the eye of a storm I didn’t even know I was trapped in.
Sharon was Don Arden’s daughter, of course. Don was managing *Sabbath* at the time, a bit of a bulldog, a real force. So when I met Sharon, she wasn’t just some random girl—she was *the manager’s daughter*, which made her immediately off-limits in my mind. But you know me—I’ve never been too good with rules.
At first, we were just… around each other. I was either high, drunk, or in the middle of a tour. She was this sharp, observant presence—quiet but never invisible. You couldn’t miss Sharon. She had this intensity in her eyes that said, “I see through all this bullshit.” And believe me, I was full of it at the time. I didn’t know who I was or where I was going. All I knew was the music and the madness.
But even back then, even in the haze, something about her stuck in my mind. She wasn’t impressed by the fame, the antics, or the drugs. That alone made her different. Most people around me were either trying to get something or lose themselves in the wreckage we called life. Sharon didn’t want either. She wanted truth. She wanted purpose. And, eventually, she wanted *me*—but not the wreckage. She wanted to build something from the ruins.
After I got fired from *Black Sabbath* in ’79, I was a mess. A proper, bloody mess. They kicked me out because of the drinking and the drugs, and I don’t blame them. I was off the rails. That band was my whole life, and suddenly it was gone. I spent months locked away in a hotel room in Los Angeles, drinking myself into oblivion, doing drugs until I couldn’t feel a damn thing. I was convinced it was over—not just my career, but *me*. I was done.
But Sharon… she didn’t see it that way. She saw *something* still there—God knows how, but she did. She came to me, not with pity, but with this fierce belief that I could get back up. That there was music left in me. She didn’t sugarcoat anything. She told me I was a bloody mess, and she was right. But then she said, “You can still do this, Ozzy. You’re not finished unless you let yourself be.”
That was the beginning of everything. Of the solo career. Of “Blizzard of Ozz.” Of a second life I never thought I’d have. Sharon believed when I didn’t. She took the reins—became my manager, my protector, my lighthouse. She built the team, she fought for me, she made deals, and she *dragged* me through hell when I needed dragging.
And through it all, somewhere in the madness, I fell in love. Properly. Not some drug-fueled rockstar obsession, but love—real, painful, beautiful love.
Sharon saved my life. People say that a lot, but I mean it literally. If she hadn’t pulled me out of that hotel room, if she hadn’t believed in me when I was nothing but a shadow of myself—I’d be dead. There’s no doubt in my mind. She gave me a reason to fight. She gave me *hope*, which is something I never thought I needed. But God, did I.
We got married in 1982. It wasn’t some fairy tale—nothing in our lives ever is. We’ve been through more storms than most. There’s been betrayal, relapse, cancer, rehab, near-death experiences, lawsuits—you name it. But we’ve faced it *together*. Every time I fell, she stood taller. Every time I slipped, she reached down and pulled me back up. She is the strongest person I know.
You know what’s mad? Even after all these years, I still feel that spark when I look at her. She’s older now—so am I, obviously—but there’s this fire in her eyes that’s never gone out. She can walk into a room and still shut it down. She doesn’t need to shout, she doesn’t need to perform. She just *is*.
We’ve raised three amazing kids together—Aimee, Kelly, and Jack. They’ve grown up in a world most kids can’t imagine, and we haven’t always been perfect parents, but we’ve *always* loved them fiercely. Sharon’s been the backbone of our family, holding us all together when everything else was falling apart.
And the truth is, our love story isn’t pretty. It’s not neat or polished. It’s raw, gritty, filled with mistakes and pain and redemption. But it’s real. It’s lasted. In a world where everything burns out, we’re still here. Side by side.
There were times I thought she’d leave. Times I deserved it. I cheated, I relapsed, I got lost in myself more than once. And every time, she had to make that choice—to stay or to go. She chose *me*. Not because I was easy to love, but because she saw something in me worth loving. And I’ll never forget that.
Now, as I look back, I realize that Sharon wasn’t just my partner—she was my greatest collaborator. My longest-running tour mate. My anchor. Without her, there would be no “Prince of Darkness.” No solo legacy. No redemption arc. She was the one backstage, behind the curtain, pulling the strings and holding the whole show together.
These days, we’re quieter. Slower. I’ve had my share of health issues, and Sharon’s been by my side through every surgery, every scare, every sleepless night. We don’t party like we used to. We don’t travel as much. But we still laugh. We still argue—of course we do, we’re both bloody stubborn. But we also sit together in silence sometimes, and that silence says more than any song ever could.
If someone asked me what love is, I’d say it’s Sharon. It’s not the roses or the candlelight or the perfect words. It’s the fight. It’s the decision to stay when it’s easier to walk away. It’s showing up, day after day, when everything hurts. Love is messy. Love is hard. Love is *work*. And Sharon has worked for us like no one else ever could.
She walked into my life like a quiet melody, and now she’s the chorus I keep coming back to. Always there. Always strong. Always real.
Sharon Osbourne—you saved me. You shaped me. You stood by me when the world didn’t. And I love you more today than I ever did on that day we first met.
From *Black Sabbath* to the darkness and back again—our story is the only one I’d live a thousand times over.
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