The first time I saw Nora Aunor was in 1971.

It was the year of my first job at Graphic Magazine as proofreader. The magazine’s entertainment editor, Ethel Ramos, asked me to cover the press conference of the then popular Guy and Pip tandem at the Vera Perez Gardens.

What I remember of that moment was the incessant screaming of the crowd every time she waved at the predominantly media audience.

At the time, I didn’t know what the hysteria was all about.

In 1971, I was no fan of hers. Or of Tirso Cruz III.

I preferred Susan Roces.

On that decade, I have yet to watch Himala and Bona and Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos.

I went back to the Graphic office with a detached reportage of the Guy and Pip duo.

In 2016, Bibeth Orteza invited me to a private dinner which I thought was only for Susan Roces and her friends. That year, La Aunor was already a legend in both cinema and music. I adored her after Himala and Bona.

I had not gotten over the excitement of dining with Susan Roces when lo and behold, another guest arrived and it was no less than the great Nora Aunor.

My media friend, Baby K. Jimenez, made sure I had enough pictorial with the superstar. I posed with her while she was signing a DVD of Himala and then suddenly, Tirso Cruz III also arrived. Baby K. arranged a pictorial with me and the Guy and Pip legends.

In 2024, I saw her for the last time gracing the special screening of Bona at Cinemalaya along with Phillip Salvador. She looked ill and she hardly talked. Salvador did the honors of answering the questions from the media.

As expected, everybody was still raving about Bona.

I told actor Nanding Josef, “I didn’t know you were the ‘first love’ of Bona in this film.”

On the 16th of April, I heard the news of the inevitable. She was in a hospital room surrounded by her loved ones. She underwent a procedure, had a hard time coping with other health issues.

Then she breathed her last.

Said her son Ian de Leon. “She did not die during the operation. After that, she had a hard time breathing.”

Aunor was confined to the hospital on April 10 and underwent angioplasty April 16. It was a medical procedure done to open clogged coronary arteries to improve blood flow to the heart. Other medical findings also confirmed that she had been suffering from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD), a progressive lung disease

In that last moment, the great Nora Aunor closed the last chapter of 71 years of a life. It was just a few weeks short of her 72nd birthday on May 21.

Said Aunor’s only son (by Christopher de Leon): “From a very young age, our mom captivated hearts with her talent, grace, and unmatched voice. Over the decades, she built a career that shaped the very soul of our culture—through songs, through screen, and through every role she brought to life with brilliance.

Her contributions to the arts are immeasurable. Her legacy will live on in every performance, every melody, and every person she inspired. We are profoundly grateful to everyone who reached out with love and prayers.

Your messages are a powerful testament to how deeply she was cherished—not just by us, but an entire nation.

Thank you for honoring her life, her work, and the lasting mark she leaves behind.”

Film director Joel Lamangan — who directed Nora in such landmark films as  Muling Umawit ang Puso, Flor Contemplacion, Bakit May Kahapon Pa, Hustisya, Isa Pang Bahaghari – was weighed down by grief. “In all my films she appeared in, she showcased acting of the superior kind. I was not surprised she won local and international awards in most of her signature film appearances. In those landmark output were built our director-actor relationship. Nabuo ang prinsipyong dapat ang katotohanang hinihingi ng pelikula ang maibigay namin sa manonood. Nahubog ang tumatak na uri ng pagganap na si Nora lang ang makapagbibigay. Ang simple, makatotohanan, at diretsang ekspresyon ng emotion na hinihingi ng partikular na panahon.”

One simple act of kindness of La Aunor Lamangan cannot forget was when they were shooting Sidhi in Bongabon, Nueva Ecija.

Upon knowing of a farmer’s predicament tilling his land, she promptly bought a carabao for the poor landtiller.

Actor Dingdong Dantes had an unforgettable encounter with the National Artist for Film during midseason run of a prime time teleserye, Pari ‘Koy where he played a priest assigned in a struggling community.

As the actor recalled it, the series tackled deeply human stories — redemption, hope, compassion. “The series demanded a lot from us actors, emotionally and spiritually. The big surprise was when the producers announced a special guest and she was no other than Nora Aunor. As an actor, it has always been my dream to work with the legends—those whose work opened the doors for all of us in the industry. At the very top of that dream list was the one and only Superstar. Ms. Nora Aunor.”

The actor recalled the shoot in August of 2015 went on late into the night. “Most of the scenes were heavy drama, and my sequence with her was scheduled towards the end—typically the after-midnight slot. True enough, the moment came under the cloak of night, in front of the parish church, drenched in water from fire hoses to simulate rain, lit with cinematic precision. It was cold. The air was thick with anticipation. The scene was tough. And it was all under the direction of the great, late Direk Maryo J. Delos Reyes, whose vision and energy shaped the atmosphere on set. He demanded truth, and everyone rose to the challenge—especially when working alongside two actors from different generations, brought together for one powerful moment. La Aunor was calm, focused and magnificent.  It felt like the world paused—just the two of us, quietly sharing the moment. We didn’t talk about acting. Nothing technical. Nothing about the industry. Just two people exchanging thoughts that didn’t need to be profound, but felt meaningful anyway. I had always wondered what it would be like to talk to the Superstar. I was nervous, unsure if I could hold a conversation with someone of her stature. But her warmth, her humility—she made it easy. And that’s what I will remember forever. That moment—those ten minutes of connection—was quietly captured by my colleague, Kit Sherwin Cruz. He took a photo of us sitting side by side on those monoblocks, mid-conversation. I didn’t know he had taken it until later. And now, looking at it, I’m grateful to have that memory frozen in time—a reminder that sometimes, the most powerful moments aren’t in front of the camera, but beside it.”

The actor said he will remember the grace, the professionalism, the passion, and the humility—especially when no one is watching. That night wasn’t just about a scene. It was about sharing space and spirit with someone who carried decades of artistry with quiet dignity. And I shared it with the National Artist and the Superstar.”

It is common knowledge that La Aunor has won acting awards in cinema here and abroad, and just a few years before her demise, the number just keeps growing.

Almost always, her presence in any film is an invitation to another acting award.

But unknown to many, Nora has also done theater, and, while modest compared to her film output, these appearances have been equally memorable.

In 1976, Lupita Aquino Kashiwahara (sister of Ninoy) directed a landmark film called Minsa’y Isang Gamu-gamo (Once A Moth), which won best picture, best director, best story, best screenplay and best editing in that year’s Famas Awards.

While the best actress trophy eluded Nora, everyone in the cinema world was convinced her role as Corazon de la Cruz, whose brother was killed in an American military reservation, was second to none that year.

Manunuri member Nicanor Tiongson wrote: “Once again, Nora Aunor proves herself to be one of the finest actresses today, with an acting style that is both ‘raw’ and ‘fine,’ characterized by a disarming sincerity and force that can break into an unbelievable number of nuances, shades, and colors of emotion. Outstanding is her court scene where her face registers a gamut of emotions—from anger to confusion to depression and despair—in the space of about 10 seconds. Like a mature actress, she does not attack dramatic scenes with histrionics or hysteria. Over her brother’s coffin, she curses the Americans who came to pay off her family by screaming, ‘My brother is not a pig’ over and over again with mounting intensity.”

As one looks back, many of Nora’s past films are virtual cases of art imitating the actress’s poignant, sad, and by turns, meaningful life.

To be sure, a few of her past films come to mind when an independent group of Italian film critics covering the 69th Venice International Film Festival gave her the Bisata d’Oro (Golden Eel) for best actress for the Brillante Mendoza film, “Thy Womb.”

Her Bisata d’Oro citation reads thus: “Her class and intelligence as an actress lights up her performance with the necessary and important emotion. Nora Aunor shows that the work of an actress is to communicate ideas with intense expression and to make them credible…”

Indeed, it was nothing short of “Himala” (miracle) because she was singled out from the 16 other lead actresses in 16 other competing films in the festival.

“Himala” was the title of her 1981 Ishmael Bernal film which earned for Aunor her first international best actress nomination in the 1983 Berlin Film Festival.

The miraculous streak of Himala lasted for decades because the same 1981 film was the only Filipino film chosen by CNN as one of the ten best Asian films of all time from the provisional list of 18 great films for the year 2008.

CNN cited “Himala” for its “austere camera work, haunting score, and accomplished performances that sensitively portray the harsh social and cultural conditions that people in the Third World endure.”

The same film was also awarded the CNN APSA Viewers Choice Award for Best Asia-Pacific Film of all Time in November 14, 2008.

Born Maria Leonora Teresa Cabaltera on May 21, 1953 in Iriga City, Nora had some lucky streaks which were like a scene from her 1972 film, And God Smiled at Me where she won another best actress award.

And yet a few years back, she figured in a drug case in an international airport which caused her detention in a US jail.

Like it or not, her real life abroad became a virtual scene from her 1984 film, Bulaklak ng City Jail where she played the role of an inmate which earned her another best actress award.

In 2001 during another reprise of an EDSA upheaval, she admitted on national television a relationship with a former president who she said beat her during several of their lovers’ altercations. Like it or not, that life was like a scene from her film, Bona, the theater version of which she watched starring the new Bona of Eugene Domingo.

Flashback. In the 60s, she caught national attention when she won several amateur singing competitions. All of a sudden, a botched operation affected her vocal chords and she woke up one day with her golden voice gone. An earlier scheduled throat operation in Boston didn’t revive that singing voice.

In the past, that same voice broke sales record for Philippine recordings which up to this date, according to Noranians, have yet to be surpassed.

She has recorded more than 500 songs among them “Pearly Shells” (1971) which is one of the country’s biggest hits with more than one million units sold.

With that voice now suddenly gone, she went through an empty phase virtually like a scene from her 1976 film, Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos (Three Years Without God) where she garnered another best actress trophy.

Some years back when she returned for a role in a TV station’s teleserye, Sa Ngalan Ng Ina, (In the name of the Mother) she came up with another winning performance under a watchful eye of her mentor, Mario O’Hara. But that teleserye folded up too soon. She was left with only one career choice left: film acting.

The red-carpet premiere of Sa Ngalan Ng Ina brought back memories of her colorful past.

For one, her fans were back and they shrieked no end at the sight of their idol, applauded every scene where she delivered with aplomb and they stood by her even after the screening and during the presscon conducted right inside the theater.

Her fans have a special place in her heart.” My fans are no longer what they used to be but they remain loyal,” she said then. “There are those who simply got married, had children but when my name is mentioned, they still remember.”

Nora was a movie fan herself and she knew the unpredictability of one. She was a rabid Amalia Fuentes follower but when she was ignored while she was asking for an autograph, she switched to the Susan Roces camp. “I have no regrets because I found out ang bait-bait pala ni Susan Roces. When I guested in her film ‘Pangarap Ko’y Ikaw,’ the more I realized Susan was good-natured even off camera. That’s the reason I see myself in my fans.”

When her reel and real life went through some crisis, she turned to her fans for solace.

When she decided to pull herself from the pit, she turned to her fans for re-assurance. “A severe crisis can make or unmake you,” she once told this writer. “Even as I was going through one of worst trials, I sought strength from my fans. Pag nakikita ko sila, nagkakaroon ako ng lakas dahil nandoon pa rin ang pagtitiwala nila. (When I see them, I gain strength because their trust is still there.) It is no joke to lose friends as your fortunes dwindled but somehow some of my fans had stayed with me through some of my worst tribulations.”

In one of her last lounge acts. she sang a stirring version of The Windmills of My Mind which she said captured many untold chapters of her life and loves.

As I wrap up this story, FB is suddenly awash with her past recordings which like it or not were her gateway to showbiz fame.

As she wrapped up 71 years of a life, she is remembered as an actress, as a singer, a recording artist and film producer.

The Hollywood Reporter called her “The Grand Dame of Philippine Cinema” for her performances in the films Taklub (Trap) and Hustisya (Justice), and for her contributions to the Philippine film industry.

Suddenly FB is featuring revivals of her earlier version of Song of My Life which might as well capture her musical life and her personal episodes as well.

It was said her Lola Theresa taught her the first song she every learned, The Way of A Clown.

Her early profile added that her Aunt Belen Aunor taught her diction, interpretation, and expression while singing. From her aunt she also got her screen name, Nora Aunor.

She didn’t hide her past like her poverty-stricken childhood. She sold peanuts in bus terminals and hawked bottled water in train stations.

Her early singing triumphs were modest.

She was a champion of the Darigold Jamboree singing You and the Night and the Music.

She repeated the same vocal feat in another radio singing competition, The Liberty Big Show with her winning piece, You and The Night and the Music.

Her handlers thought she was ready to conquer a national singing competition.

She didn’t make it in her first try at Tawag Ng Tanghalan.

But on May 9, 1967, she made it as champion in the grand national finals of the Tawag Ng Tanghalan with the song, Moonlight Becomes You.

And the rest as they say is history.

Film critic Mauro Feria Tumbocon, Jr. describes La Aunor’s brand of acting thus: “Her performance especially in her more critically-acclaimed works are now considered standards to whom latter-day actors subscribe to, and against which, they will be measured: A delicate balance of learned skills, emotional knowingness, cultural sensitivity. Aunor’s economy of gestures, her facial malleability, her liquid eyes – a miracle. Just observe this evolution of her performance, her style that aspires for the truth, depicting grief from the very physical expression of sorrow in Lupita Aquino-Concio’s Minsa’y Isang Gamugamo (Once A Moth)  1976 and Maryo J de los Reyes’s Naglalayag (Silent Passage), 2004; to the quiet intensity of Ishmael Bernal’s Himala (Miracle], 1982; Brillante Mendoza’s Taklub (Trap), 2015; and Kristian Sendon Cordero’s Hinulid, The Sorrows of Sita, 2016, you will discern the great maturity of a true artist.”

Lino Brocka once confided to a distinguished film Noel Vera La Aunor was the only star he knew who could silence a crowd. “After the premiere of Ina Ka ng Anak Mo (You Are the Mother of Your Child, 1979), a big crowd waited for her outside the lobby. People were unruly. Her car was being bumped by the crowd. All she did was put a finger to her lips and raise her right hand, and it was like the parting of the Red Sea. You could hear a pin drop.”