Days Before His Death, Ozzy Osbourne Revealed This To Tony Iommi, And It’s Heartbreaking. | HO!!!!

BIRMINGHAM, UK — The world was still reeling from shock and grief when news broke on July 22, 2025: Ozzy Osbourne, the Prince of Darkness, was dead at 76. But as tributes poured in and fans gathered in candlelit vigils from Aston to Los Angeles, a quieter, more devastating story began to emerge—one that would shatter even the most hardened of hearts. Days before his passing, Ozzy revealed a secret to his lifelong friend and Black Sabbath co-founder Tony Iommi, a confession that now casts his final days in a haunting new light.

This is the story of how a legend prepared for the end—and what he chose to share, in private, when the world’s eyes were not upon him.

A Farewell Written in Pain

Ozzy Osbourne’s final months were a study in endurance. Years of battling Parkinson’s disease, coupled with the aftermath of multiple spinal surgeries, had left him frail, often confined to a wheelchair or a custom-made leather throne. Yet, in the face of relentless pain, Ozzy refused to let go of the music, the stage, or the fans who had given his life purpose.

On July 5th, 2025, under the open skies of Villa Park Stadium in Birmingham, Ozzy took the stage for what would become his last performance. For over 45,000 fans in the stadium and nearly six million more watching online, it seemed a celebration—a homecoming for the boy from Aston who had changed the world. But those closest to him knew the truth: this was not just a show, but a goodbye.

Tony Iommi, his bandmate, brother-in-arms, and lifelong friend, would later say, “We think he held out just to do that show. He’d rather die singing in Birmingham than rot in a hospital bed.”

Back to the Beginning: One Last Bow

The concert, titled “Back to the Beginning,” was more than a nostalgic reunion. It was a full-circle moment, a tribute to the city where Black Sabbath was born, where Ozzy and Tony first dreamed beyond the smoke-stained skies of working-class Birmingham. The original lineup, reunited after decades, played not for spectacle, but for closure. Metallica, Slayer, Guns N’ Roses, Tool, and Pantera joined the tribute, but the night belonged to Ozzy.

Seated atop his throne, Ozzy’s voice was raw, trembling, but fiercely alive. He poured every ounce of himself into the music. Behind the scenes, the toll was obvious. Between songs, he rested, sometimes barely able to speak. Tony later recalled, “He was holding on by a thread. But he gave it everything.”

After the show, there was no celebration. Ozzy was wheeled into his dressing room, exhausted. Before leaving, he rolled into Tony’s room, cracked a tired smile, and simply said, “It went all right, didn’t it?” The quietness of that moment spoke louder than any encore.

The Secret Ozzy Shared

What the world didn’t know—what even his family didn’t fully realize—was that Ozzy had been preparing for this farewell for months. In the weeks leading up to the concert, he confided in Tony Iommi. The conversation, which Tony would only reveal after Ozzy’s passing, was heartbreakingly simple.

“He told me, ‘I don’t want a big spectacle, mate. No farewell tour, no fuss. Just one last chance to thank the fans in Birmingham, where it all started. If I’m going out, let it be on stage, not in a hospital bed.’”

Tony’s voice broke as he recounted the exchange in an emotional interview with ITV News. “He never said it was goodbye. But you could feel it. He wanted to go out doing what he loved, where it all began. That’s all he ever asked.”

Ozzy’s final wish was not for glory, but for gratitude—a chance to give back to the people who had carried him from the slums of Aston to the heights of rock immortality.

A Final Message, A Final Goodbye

Just hours before his death, Tony received a text from Ozzy. The message was brief, almost mundane, but in hindsight, devastating: “I’m really tired. No energy left.” Tony said, “I just thought, ‘Oh no, something’s not right.’ Looking back, I believe he was saying goodbye.”

On the night of July 21st, Ozzy Osbourne died peacefully in his sleep at home in Buckinghamshire, surrounded by Sharon and their children. The world woke to heartbreak. Outside his childhood home in Aston, fans gathered, candles flickering against the night. Musicians from Elton John to James Hetfield paid tribute. But no words captured the loss like the silence that followed.

The Bond That Endured Everything

For Tony Iommi, the loss was personal and profound. Their friendship had endured poverty, addiction, estrangement, and the pressures of global fame. They had first met at Birchfield Road School in the 1960s—two working-class kids who dreamed of something more. Ozzy was the class clown, Tony the quiet observer. Together, they forged a partnership that would birth a new genre and change the course of music history.

“We didn’t just lose a bandmate. We lost a brother,” Tony said. “Our bond wasn’t forged in contracts or fame. It was welded in the smoke-filled streets of Birmingham, in schoolyard laughs and dreams bigger than the horizon.”

Even after Ozzy was fired from Black Sabbath in 1979—a decision Tony called “the hardest of my life”—their connection never truly broke. Decades later, their 2013 reunion for the album 13 and the subsequent world tour proved that some bonds are unbreakable.

A Legacy Beyond Music

Ozzy’s final concert raised €140 million for Parkinson’s research and Birmingham Children’s Hospital, but its greatest legacy was human. It was the vision of a man nearly broken by time and illness, who summoned the last of his strength to say goodbye—not with spectacle, but with sincerity.

As “Paranoid” rang out for the last time and the stage lights dimmed, there were no fireworks, no theatrics—just the soft tremble of Ozzy’s hand raised in farewell, Tony’s eyes wet with grief, and a crowd united in knowing they had witnessed the end of something immortal.

What Tony Iommi Wants You to Know

In the days following Ozzy’s death, Tony spoke candidly about their final days together. “He wasn’t just the Prince of Darkness. He was the boy from Aston who made me laugh in school, who pulled faces backstage, who never stopped being Ozzy.”

Tony remembered the laughter first—the backstage antics, the jokes that cut tension, the way Ozzy’s madness could become a form of healing. “He’d pull a face right in the middle of a song and I’d just lose it,” Tony said, smiling through tears. “That was his gift—making the serious feel human.”

But memory is not always kind. Tony also remembered the darkness—the years when Ozzy was unreachable, lost to addiction and pain. He remembered the long road back: the reunion, the healing, the final bow. “We’re lucky bastards, aren’t we?” Ozzy had said, “Still alive, still screaming.”

A Goodbye Like No Other

Perhaps the most heartbreaking moment came in the days before their final show. Ozzy looked at Tony and said, “I’m not sure I’ll survive this show, mate. But if I’m going out, let it be while I’m singing in Birmingham, not rotting in a hospital bed.” Tony never replied—he couldn’t. Now, those words echo louder than any guitar riff.

“He chose to close his life where it all began, with us, with music. That was his way of saying thank you. Not just to me, but to everyone.”

The Silence That Follows

At Ozzy’s memorial, Tony stood before a sea of mourners, his voice wavering but strong. “This isn’t goodbye,” he said. “This is thank you—for every scream, for every laugh, for every scar and every song. He left like a king: quietly, with dignity, with music.”

The silence that followed was deafening. No one moved. No one spoke. The air was thick with memory, grief, and an unspoken unity that only true legends can create.

The Echo That Remains

Ozzy Osbourne’s echo lives on in every backstage story, every haunting lyric, every mischief-laden wink. He wasn’t just part of music history—he bent history around him. He redefined what it meant to be broken and brilliant at the same time. And in doing so, he gave generations permission to be loud, to be flawed, to be real.

“There will never be another Ozzy,” Tony said. And for those who truly listened, he never really left.

If Ozzy’s voice ever carried you through darkness or lit your fire when the world grew cold, share your memory. Let his echo live on. Not just in music, but in you. Because for those who truly listened, he never really left.