u/IllustratorOk5265

The first thing I did when we checked into the motel was to call my parents and give them the tragic news. Fortunately, the Cuban radio stations in Miami had not yet broadcasted any news regarding the crash and I was able to intercept any misinformation. On the other hand, by the time I was able to reach a phone, the Los Angeles radio airwaves were filled with tributes to Randy and misinformation about the crash.

I spent the rest of the afternoon reliving the crash over the phone with my friends and loved ones and I just couldn’t help feeling guiltier with each call at the thought of still being alive. After I had gone through my whole phone book I just had to be alone. So I went for a walk and came upon a church down the street from the hotel. I walked in and noticed that the place was empty except for one lonely soul on his knees praying near the altar. I too wanted to be alone so I kept my distance as I knelt down at a pew near the entrance and prayed. As I closed my eyes and wept, I could hear him sobbing uncontrollably. Even in my darkest hour I couldn’t help but feel compassion towards someone who seemed to be in more agony than myself.

Suddenly, he let out a bone-chilling moan that reverberated throughout the church. “Why! Why!?” He cried. I raised my head and looked over at him. It was Ozzy.

Back in my room, the events of the day kept flashing through my head as I lay in bed trying to make some sense of it all. It was common knowledge within our circle that Andy and Wanda’s marriage was on the rocks and he was desperately trying to win her back. There were references by those who witnessed the crash that Wanda was standing in the doorway of the bus as the plane plummeted towards it. “Why would Andy invite our band members to go for a couple of airplane rides after an exhausting 10-hour bus drive?” I asked myself over and over. Images of Randy struggling with Andy to keep the plane from crashing into the bus kept flashing through my head.

Finally in a slightly more comforting, lucid moment I came to realize that Randy had saved our lives. Later that night, after I had run out of tears, I fell asleep.

The day following the crash, March 20th, Ozzy, Sharon and I took part in depositions officiated by a Florida Lake County notary public.

Later that evening, after we concluded our depositions, we flew from Orlando back to Los Angeles. It was a rather uncomfortable flight as we solemnly sat among the happy children returning home from their Disney World vacations. I looked into their faces and prayed that none of them would ever feel the pain I felt that night.

“Rudy, look at him. My poor Ozzy,” Sharon whispered and shook her head while the three of us sat together in the back of the plane. “He hasn’t stopped crying since yesterday. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m afraid that if we get off the road he might hurt himself.” Sharon put a blanket over Ozzy’s shoulder as he sobbed in the window seat. “Do me a favor. From now on when you’re all onstage he’s going to need somebody to play off. I think he’ll be comfortable with you. So please be there to support him.” I watched him sob with his head buried in his blanket. I pondered one thing: “How am I going to support him when I need all the support I can get?”

While Ozzy flew to New York City to fulfill a previously scheduled “David Letterman Show” appearance, the rest of the band carried on with the auditions. That evening while I watched the TV interview I couldn’t help but feel compassion for Ozzy as the subject Mr. Letterman was most interested in was the biting the head off the bat incident.

On the morning of March 24th, we all gathered to attend Randy’s 12:30 p.m. memorial. “You know, I just don’t understand it,” Ozzy slurred as Sharon caressed his shaking hands in the limo. “I drink myself into bloody oblivion every night, I get stoned out of my mind and abuse myself all these years and the guy who kept his nose clean is the one who buys the bloody farm. I just don’t get it. Why him and not me?” He paused while he stared out the window. “The hardest thing of all is facing Delores. I just feel so guilty and responsible. Here I go and take her son away from her after she puts her trust in me. And then what happens? I bring him back home in a box.” Ozzy wept as Sharon consoled him.

When we arrived at the church, the first person I approached was Jody. Sometimes you associate couples with their mates and the impression made by her solitary presence was yet another reminder of the emptiness we all shared.

These excerpts are taken from Rudy Sarzo's book Off the Rails