Victor “Cocoy” Laurel lived for the arts. Whether onstage, in film, through music, or on the canvas, he gave himself fully to every creative act. He shunned the spotlight and let his work speak for itself.
At the height of his theater career, he sustained injuries during rehearsals but kept performing. The strain eventually led him to step away from public life, though he never stopped creating.
In his later years, Cocoy faced illness and personal loss. His mother, theater icon Celia Diaz Laurel, died in 2021. Earlier this year, he lost his sister Suzie and several close friends, including National Artist Nora Aunor. In April, he completed a life-size portrait of Aunor and gave it to her eldest daughter, Lotlot, during the wake.
He continued to sing at private gatherings and Masses at the Santuario de San Antonio in Makati. His music remained grounded in faith. Among his most personal works was The Lord’s Prayer, arranged by Sabrina Villaflor and inspired by Albert Hay Malotte’s version.
In 1991, he traveled with his mother to Rome when she received the Woman for Peace Award from the Insieme Per La Pace Foundation. A private audience with Saint Pope John Paul II followed, arranged by then Philippine Ambassador to the Holy See, Howard Dee.
Asked to offer a gift, Cocoy recalled a melody he had written in prayer. He contacted his friend Fabian Obispo of the Manhattan School of Music, who remembered the chords. With only a few hours and help from a diplomatic pouch, Cocoy recorded The Lord’s Prayer at the Vatican studio and presented the finished CD to the Pope.
At 19, he studied painting in Madrid and later focused on portraiture and religious themes. His recent subjects included his mother and National Artists Fides Cuyugan Asensio and Aunor. His church commissions can be found in Loreto Church in Sampaloc and San Miguel Church in Malacañang. His final painting, The Holy Family, was displayed at his wake. One of his last works, The Annunciation, now hangs in my home.
A longtime assistant to the Laurel family shared that Cocoy, through painting commissions, was raising funds for an indigent mother who needed surgery. I gave what I considered a modest donation. Cocoy later asked what I wanted him to paint. I requested for an image of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
Over a year later, he handed me The Annunciation—a large oil-on-wood of a young Mary and the Angel Gabriel. The work was stunning in both scale and depth. It was far more than I expected. Even in his generosity, he was larger than life!
Cocoy and the Laurel family quietly supported many aspiring artists who went on to build careers in music and entertainment.
As the son of former Vice President Doy Laurel, Cocoy upheld a deep sense of duty. He never married, keeping a promise to care for his mother. In his final years, he declined treatment, spent long hours in prayer, and offered his pain as a sacrifice for those who could not afford care.
Cocoy died of a heart attack on June 14 at age 72. He had been preparing to join his brother Dave and sister-in-law Ruby in a church choir, start a new painting for charity, and produce a benefit concert for struggling artists.
Beside his bed, a handwritten note was found: “If you remember me, let it be through the songs I sang and the love I gave. I lived not to be famous, but to share beauty, laughter, and hope through my art. I go in peace, and I leave my music with you. Sing it when you’re sad. Dance when you’re free. Love without holding back. That’s how I lived—and that’s how I want to be remembered.”
And so he takes his final bow.
Bravo, Cocoy. Bravo.
