Cocoy Laurel’s Final Years: The Hidden Life of Music, Kindness, and Quiet Farewells

When Victor “Cocoy” Laurel passed away on June 14, 2025, many remembered him as the dazzling performer of stage and screen, or as the beloved son of Vice President Salvador Laurel and Celia Diaz-Laurel. But what few knew was that his final years, far from the spotlight, were his most meaningful—and magical.

The Quiet Retreat from Fame

For two decades, Cocoy chose to live in the background. A spinal injury in 2005 marked the beginning of his physical decline. Refusing surgery after a traumatic medical experience, he instead faced his condition with quiet bravery—even as pain became his constant companion.

But even in the face of suffering, Cocoy’s spirit never dimmed.

👉 “He didn’t want pity. He wanted to bring joy, even while he was in pain,” said his brother, David.

The Man Who Made Strangers Dance

David and Iwi Laurel recall Cocoy’s ability to turn any moment into magic. On a family trip to Italy, Cocoy stood up in a quiet restaurant and began singing “Volare.” Before long, tourists and locals alike were singing with him.

On a cruise ship, he grabbed a microphone mid-dinner and began performing — transforming a polite dining hall into a party, with strangers dancing on tables.

👉 “That was Cocoy,” David said. “He didn’t need fame to make people happy. He just needed a song.”

A Brother, A Teacher, A Gentle Soul

To Iwi, Cocoy was the first teacher who shaped her musical journey. He taught her to sing, to perform, and most importantly — to give.

👉 “He was always generous — with his time, his talent, his love,” she said.

A Quiet Hero Behind the Laurel Legacy

Though he never sought power, Cocoy played a vital role behind the scenes. On campaign trails with their father, Cocoy’s voice and guitar helped warm even the coldest crowds.

👉 “He was our father’s secret weapon,” David shared.

His True Inheritance: Kindness

Cocoy left no fortune, no headlines. But he left something more powerful — a legacy of kindness, joy, and love.

His cremation and inurnment on June 19 were simple, private — just as he would have wanted. But the music he shared, the laughter he sparked, and the hearts he touched will long outlive him.

👉 “Cocoy Laurel may be gone,” his family said, “but the music he made—in life, in love, and in memory—will never stop playing.”