Alan Osmond has been many things to many people all over the world; but to me, he has been father.
As the oldest performing Osmond, he grew up in the most unconventional of situations, and yet, he was humble, kind, and integrous. He faced his almost 40-year battle with multiple sclerosis with remarkable positivity. I have never known anyone so optimistic in the face of adversity.
What I will remember most about him is his optimism, his love for his wife and family, and his testimony of His Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
I married his fifth son, Scott, in 2004. Having been born after the height of Osmond family fame, I didn’t know much about their impact and legacy at the time. Though, I have learned more since then. I want people to know that although Alan had an impressive résumé — and influenced tens of thousands — he was also a dear husband, father and grandfather. What I will remember most about him is his optimism, his love for his wife and family, and his testimony of His Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
He loved Suzanne deeply and wrote countless songs about her. The first time she ever saw him perform was the evening of their wedding day. They had been married in the Provo, Utah temple on July 16, 1974, but had to fly to Las Vegas that afternoon to get back for father’s show that night. I can only imagine how surreal that moment must have been for mother.
It was an appropriate foreshadowing of the life ahead of them. It was also the beginning of their constant and unwavering support of each other. In the middle of the night before his passing, he briefly opened his eyes, and turned to her, asking, “Mother, are you OK?”
The world has never seen a better missionary than Alan Osmond. His membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was of utmost importance to him. I regularly had people tell me that they or someone they knew joined the church because of father and the Osmond family. I recently asked him how often he receives a message saying as much. His response: “Almost every day.”
Early in my son, Caleb’s mission, father would hit reply all to Caleb’s emails. Scott notified father, so that in the future, he could message just Caleb. The replies to all didn’t stop, and it recently occurred to us that father probably intended it that way. I’m guessing he thought, “Why not share this message with everyone?” Nobody embodied Paul’s charge better: “For I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ.” (Romans 1:16)
I never knew father without MS, but I have seen the disease’s progression over time. I remember once telling him how sorry I was when he was going through a particularly difficult phase, and he looked at me almost uncomprehendingly. It was like he was confused at the pity I was offering. Why would he need it?
He would be getting up the next day and painstakingly dressing in slacks and a pressed shirt, and he would make it to whatever commitments he had. He would do so while leaning on his walker and dragging his right leg behind him — the right side of his body was the most affected by the disease. Mother would load his scooter in four parts into the back of her car, and together they would face the day with resolve.
Almost a year ago, father was falling often, and ended up needing to spend some time in a rehabilitation facility. The days were long; progress was slow, but he never complained. When he was released to go home, he did so in a fashion reminiscent of George Bailey in “It’s a Wonderful Life.” He woke up every morning in his own bed and told Mother, “I’m the luckiest man in the world,” and “Aren’t we blessed?” It was truly remarkable.
Alan passed on Monday, April 20, which also happened to be the date of the 2026 Boston Marathon, which I was planning to run. Father started hospice care the week prior. Though father and mother were adamant we not cancel our trip, Scott and I knew that this time was precious. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel a little sorry for myself on race morning.
That day, when I walked into Father’s room, he opened his eyes and said, “Congratulations! You won!” Though his body was failing, he remembered that I had something going on that was worth praising. Later that day, as I sat at the end of his bed rubbing his feet, I happened to glance up at the clock and realize I would have been crossing the finish line right then. My heart swelled with compassion for this good man who raised the man I love more than I can define, and I thought, “You’re right, father, I really did win.”