Ricky Lee’s eulogy for Nora Aunor: A Superstar for the people

In a moving heartfelt eulogy, National Artist for Literature Ricky Lee paid tribute to his dear friend and long-time collaborator, Nora Aunor, during her State Funeral. In front of an audience of mourners and admirers, Lee unraveled the legacy of a woman whose life was intricately bound with the struggles, dreams and emotions of the Filipino people.

Lee began his speech with a memory from 1993, during a tour of his stage play DH (Domestic Helper), which starred Nora Aunor. In Hong Kong’s Central Park, hundreds of domestic workers gathered, and one by one, Nora embraced them, asked how they were doing, and listened to their stories. As they were leaving, Ricky Lee turned to see more than ten women crying and chasing after their van. “Why does she have this effect on people?” he asked himself. “Because they saw themselves in her. Because they were her.”

Their bond deepened during the filming of Himala. On the night before the final shoot, Ricky revised Elsa’s monologue — her legendary Walang Himala speech. With thousands of extras and eight cameras ready, Nora delivered the scene in one take. Though many in the crowd didn’t understand the language, Nora’s sincerity pierced through. “The masses were in her heart,” Lee said. “She had a way of connecting with them without needing words.”

Their friendship grew stronger with Andrea, Paano Ba ang Maging Isang Ina? which Nora herself produced. When told that the film might not make it to the Metro Manila Film Festival unless they changed the ending, Nora refused. The final cut remained unaltered, and she went on to win a historic grand slam for Best Actress.

For Lee, Nora Aunor was a rebel — a courageous soul who spent nearly seven decades defying the status quo. She challenged colonial beauty standards and redefined the roles actresses could play: nun, prisoner, lesbian, rebel, mistress, daughter in forbidden love, sidekick, villain, Muslim, Igorot, dementia patient and even a killer. At a time when heroes in films were not supposed to die, she died — in Tatlong Taong Walang Diyos, Himala, Andrea, Flor Contemplacion and more.

“She shattered conventions,” Lee said. “She showed us the emotions of the marginalized, the power of unheard voices. She chose not only to be a superstar, but a true artist of the people.”

She offered hope. She showed that ordinary people had power. That art mattered.

Lee then recounted a conversation with Nora where he asked why her eyes always seemed sad. “Because my mother conceived me while praying to the Mater Dolorosa,” she answered. “The one with seven daggers in her heart.” That sadness, Lee said, never left her — even when she smiled.

She was full of contradictions. Simple but complex. Shy yet always in the spotlight. A giant on a pedestal yet within everyone’s reach. “An ordinary person who made us feel extraordinary.”

For all her accolades, Lee reminded everyone how much the public demanded of her — her voice, her silence, her life. Twice denied the title of National Artist. Rejected by producers for being “difficult” or “unwell.” And still, she gave. She gave her salary away to film crews, helped prisoners, dreamt of creating a foundation to aid fans and those in need. She gave until she had almost nothing left.

“Guy,” he said, using her nickname, “in the name of the millions you embraced, comforted, inspired and transformed — thank you. We are grateful to have lived in a time where you existed. Nora Aunor happens only once. But your story is far from over. Your name will be spoken by generations to come.”

Lee closed his eulogy with words as luminous as the star he mourned: “You loved us so much, even when you had nothing left for yourself. Now, let us love you — forever.”