Introduction:
Remembering Troy Osmond: A Family’s Journey Through Loss
“Okay family, here we go.” With those words, the Osmond family opened their hearts to speak about the most painful chapter of their lives—the loss of Troy Dean Osmond, the eldest son of Alan Osmond.
For a family defined by music, joy, and resilience, grief arrived like a silent storm. Troy was just 33 years old when he passed away in 2018. A gifted musician and kind soul, he had inherited the Osmond legacy but lived it in his own quiet way—through service, compassion, and a deep love for family.
The Shock of Loss
Alan and Suzanne Osmond, like any parents, never expected to bury their child. Alan admitted, “I expect him to come walking in the back door and holler, ‘Hey Ma, what’s for dinner?’ Some days I still wake up and think it was just a bad dream. But then you realize—it’s true.”
The pain of losing Troy was magnified by memories of his music. He had played the organ at the Tabernacle in Salt Lake City and at St. John’s Cathedral in London. To imagine his talent silenced was almost unbearable. “I’d heard of a broken heart,” one family member shared softly, “but I didn’t know what that was until we lost our Troy.”
Carrying On With Kindness
Grief, however, has a way of reshaping people. For the Osmonds, it became a call to live differently. “You can either be bitter, or you can be better,” Alan reflected. “In our case, we’ve become better people. We’ve become kinder.”
Troy never spoke ill of anyone, and in his memory, the family adopted a simple phrase that guides them still: “Let’s Troy harder.” It means to live as Troy did—with gentleness, compassion, and quiet strength.
The Long Road of Healing
Healing, they admit, comes in waves. Some days are easier, others nearly impossible. “You can go a day or two and be okay. Then a week or two. Then a month. You get through it,” Suzanne said. But the ache never truly leaves.
The Osmonds now share one urgent message with others: never let a day pass without telling your children you love them. Life is fragile, and love left unspoken can never be reclaimed.
Hope Beyond Heartache
What sustains the family is faith. The Osmonds hold firmly to the belief that they will see Troy again—that he now plays the great organ in heaven, his music filling the skies. “That’s what makes me happy,” Alan said quietly. “He’s up there playing for the angels.”
In the end, Troy’s life was a gift, and his legacy continues to shape his family. His story is not one of tragedy alone, but of transformation—how a family rooted in music found harmony again after silence.
And so, with every act of kindness, with every note of music, with every whispered prayer, the Osmonds “Troy harder.” They carry their son with them, not only in memory, but in the way they live.