We all knew Ozzy’s body was giving out. That’s one of the reasons so many people came to say farewell twelve days ago. Still, this feels very fast. Like maybe, preparing for the show and the excitement of it kept him going, despite the illness and pain.

But boy, did he go out in style. So many people that he’s influenced and moved were there at the final show to tell him what he meant to them. He got to play with his original mates, one last time. When he says he loves the crowd, he means it. And they raised over $190 million dollars for Parkinson’s research. That’s one hell of a wave goodbye.

I could make this about me, tell you how huge an influence on my dark musician’s brain he was, but if you know me, you already know. He and Iommi, among others, helped me find my own voice and songs.

But really, this is about Ozzy. He wasn’t the greatest singer, he wasn’t the best frontman, he wasn’t the biggest rock star, but he was all these things in his own way. For all he deserves to be known as the godfather of heavy metal, there was always something proto punk rock about the way he marched to his own drum, and did things his way. He wasn’t just anti-establishment, he helped create a new establishment. And that’s not something just anyone can lay claim to.

Goodnight and godspeed, Ozzy. You’ve earned your rest. You’ve given us so much great music to remember you by. There will never be anyone like you again.