In a showbiz industry full of glittering masks and surface smiles, comedienne and singer Mitch Valdes has never been one to mince words. But in the wake of Cocoy Laurel’s passing, the veteran performer peeled back her usual punchlines and shared a surprisingly tender, deeply human story—one that cast a whole new light on the man known for his music, elegance, and quiet dignity.
“He liked it when I called him Baby Friend,” Mitch said softly in an emotional radio tribute.
“That was our thing. Our joke. But also, not a joke.”
The revelation has since gone viral, not because it’s scandalous—but because it’s so heartbreakingly real. For years, few knew about the close, almost sibling-like bond between Mitch and Cocoy—a bond formed not just through music and performance, but through mutual respect, humor, and shared pain behind the curtains.
🎭 From Center Stage to Personal Space
Cocoy Laurel, who passed away on June 14, 2025, at age 72, was a class act. A respected member of the Laurel clan and a matinee idol with a velvet voice, Cocoy projected grace and dignity wherever he went. But to Mitch Valdes, he was something far simpler—and more profound.
“He had a formal exterior. You’d think he was stiff. But he wasn’t,” she said.
“Once you got to know him, he was silly, sweet, and always up for a laugh. He’d text me random jokes. Always addressed me as ‘Mother Mitch’. And I’d say, ‘Hello, Baby Friend!’ That became our code.”
Mitch, known for her fearless wit and strong persona, admitted that Cocoy was one of the few people who saw her soft side—and allowed her to see his. During gigs, rehearsals, and even quiet dinners, the two would exchange stories about art, politics, family—and what it meant to live under the shadow of great names.
💬 Vulnerability Behind the Smile
“He once told me, ‘You know, people expect too much from a Laurel,’” Mitch recalled.
“And I told him, ‘Then don’t give them what they expect. Give them who you are.’ And he smiled like a little boy.”
Mitch revealed that Cocoy often struggled with expectations—not just as a performer, but as the son of former Vice President Doy Laurel and theater legend Celia Diaz Laurel. Despite his talent, he sometimes felt overshadowed by legacy.
“I’d always tell him, ‘You don’t have to prove anything, Cocoy. You are enough.’ I hope he believed that by the end,” she said, her voice breaking.
🕯️ A Final Tribute—And a Personal Goodbye
At Cocoy’s private wake on June 19, Mitch was among the last to arrive—but her presence was unforgettable. She placed a single yellow rose next to his urn and whispered, “Goodbye, Baby Friend.”
“I told him he could rest now. No more pain. No more proving. Just peace.”
She later sang a stripped-down, tear-filled version of “Moon River,” one of Cocoy’s favorite songs, in front of close family and friends. Those present say it was one of the most moving moments of the evening, second only to the Manila Philharmonic’s performance of If I Were the Sky.
“There wasn’t a dry eye in the room,” said Iwi Laurel, Cocoy’s sister.
“Mitch gave him the kind of goodbye only someone who really knew him could offer.”
🎤 A Friendship Built on Truth
While Mitch and Cocoy were never romantically linked, their friendship was rooted in something deeper than fleeting attraction—it was built on vulnerability, humor, and the freedom to be one’s true self.
“He was never just a ‘Laurel’ to me,” Mitch emphasized. “He was just Cocoy. The guy who knew how to listen. Who made everyone around him feel worthy. Who called me when I was down. Who laughed at my corniest jokes.”
They had a tradition of sharing one line every time they parted:
“See you next gig, Baby Friend.”
“Save me a seat, Mother Mitch.”
That final goodbye, said Mitch, never came. “He left without our usual sign-off. But maybe he’s saving me a seat somewhere else now.”
💔 Final Thoughts: The Kind of Love We Often Overlook
In a world obsessed with romantic headlines and dramatic feuds, the story of Mitch Valdes and Cocoy Laurel reminds us of a rarer kind of love—the kind that doesn’t make tabloids, but makes life richer.
It’s the kind of bond that asks for nothing, gives everything, and quietly holds us up when we feel small. A friendship not for fame, but for the soul.
As Mitch ended her tribute, she looked into the camera, paused, and said:
“You were never just a friend, Cocoy. You were my Baby Friend. And you always will be.”
