Maybe it's bad, but I'm having a harder time without it
En los días que siguen a una pérdida, el duelo rara vez sigue un camino ordenado. Gianella Marquina, figura pública e hija de Melissa Klug, eligió esta semana compartir con sus seguidores el peso íntimo de extrañar a su perrita fallecida, reconociendo en voz alta la contradicción de aferrarse a las fotos que alivian y duelen al mismo tiempo. Su gesto, pequeño en apariencia, toca algo universal: la dificultad de soltar aquello que amamos, y la valentía que requiere admitir que aún no sabemos cómo hacerlo.
- Marquina publicó en Instagram una foto de su perrita con gorro de cumpleaños y un video acompañado de una canción melancólica, dejando ver un duelo todavía abierto.
- Confesó que no ha borrado las fotos de su mascota y que las mira para calmar la ansiedad, aunque sospecha que ese hábito podría estar prolongando el dolor.
- La tensión entre soltar y recordar se volvió el centro de su mensaje: reconoció que vivir sin esas imágenes se siente peor que el malestar que generan.
- Sus publicaciones llegaron en medio de otras dificultades simultáneas —la pérdida reciente de su abuela y preocupaciones de salud propias— revelando a una joven que carga varios duelos a la vez.
- Al elegir mostrar su vulnerabilidad en lugar de ocultarla, Marquina abre espacio para una conversación más honesta sobre el duelo animal y sus formas imperfectas de procesarse.
Gianella Marquina, hija de la figura televisiva peruana Melissa Klug, recurrió esta semana a Instagram para compartir el dolor por la muerte de su perrita. Entre sus publicaciones apareció una foto del animal con gorro de cumpleaños y el mensaje "te extraño, annycita", una imagen rescatada de tiempos más felices.
Lo más revelador llegó en un video posterior, acompañado de una canción melancólica. Con una honestidad poco común, Marquina explicó que no ha borrado las fotografías de su mascota y que las revisa de vez en cuando buscando, aunque sea por un momento, sentir de nuevo su presencia. Reconoció la contradicción: sabe que aferrarse a esas imágenes puede alimentar la ansiedad, pero también sabe que soltarlas del todo se siente peor. "Quizás no es bueno, pero me aligera el proceso un poco", admitió.
La canción que eligió para acompañar el video hablaba del mismo dilema: fotos que no se borran porque borrarlas sería borrar años enteros, memorias que duelen y que aun así se guardan. Marquina no ofreció más explicaciones; sus publicaciones se sostuvieron solas, como una ventana abierta al duelo en tiempo real.
El momento llegó mientras la joven atravesaba también otras dificultades: la pérdida reciente de su abuela y un proceso de salud propio que había compartido días antes. La suma de estas circunstancias dibujó el retrato de alguien que eligió no curar su imagen pública, sino mostrar, con toda su imperfección, el peso de vivir varios duelos al mismo tiempo.
Gianella Marquina, the daughter of Peruvian television personality Melissa Klug, opened up on Instagram this week about the death of her family's dog, sharing a series of posts that laid bare the weight of grief in the days and weeks after loss. The influencer posted a photo of the pet wearing a birthday hat, a memory from happier times, alongside the caption: "I miss you annycita," paired with a sad-face emoji.
But the real substance of her mourning came through in a video she shared afterward. Over a melancholic song, Marquina's voice carried the texture of someone still learning to sit with absence. She explained that she has not deleted the photographs of her dog—that she still looks at them from time to time, reaching backward into memory, trying to feel again the warmth of the animal's face against her own, or the weight of its body in her arms. She acknowledged the contradiction in this habit: that holding onto the images might not be the healthiest way forward, that it could be feeding the anxiety that comes with missing something that is gone. Yet she also recognized that the alternative—letting go completely—felt worse. "I'm struggling with this," she said plainly. "Maybe it's not good, but it lightens the process a little. Maybe it's bad, but I'm having a harder time without it."
The song that accompanied her post spoke to the same tension: lines about photographs that have not been erased because erasing them feels like erasing years, about wanting to hold onto those memories even when holding on hurts. Marquina did not elaborate further on the loss or offer additional updates. Her posts stood as they were—a window into how someone processes grief in real time, and how that processing often looks nothing like what we imagine it should.
The timing of her vulnerability came as she was also navigating a separate medical process, which she had revealed through a gynecological ultrasound shared on her social media. The combination of these moments—the pet's death, the family's recent loss of her grandmother, and her own health concerns—painted a picture of a young woman managing multiple forms of difficulty simultaneously, choosing to let her followers see the weight of it rather than curate only the lighter moments.
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I still look at them from time to time to feel a second your cheek against my cheek or your arms around my neck. Maybe it's not good, but it lightens the process a little. Maybe it's bad, but I'm having a harder time without it.— Gianella Marquina, in a video posted to Instagram
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why do you think she felt the need to share this so publicly? Couldn't she have grieved privately?
Because grief doesn't stay private when you live publicly. And maybe because naming it—saying it out loud to thousands of people—makes it real in a way that keeps it from eating you alive in silence.
But she admits the photos might not be helping her heal. Doesn't that suggest she knows what she should be doing and isn't doing it?
That's the thing about loss. You can know something isn't healthy and still need it anyway. The photos are a bridge. She's not ready to cross over yet.
Do you think her followers understood what she was really saying, or did they just see sadness?
Some saw sadness. Others saw themselves—the part of themselves they don't usually show. That's why it mattered that she said it.
Is there something specific about losing a pet that makes people more vulnerable than other losses?
A pet doesn't judge you. It doesn't leave because you failed at something. When it's gone, the loss is pure and uncomplicated. Maybe that's why it cuts so deep.
What comes next for her, do you think?
She'll keep looking at those photos for a while longer. Then one day she won't need to as much. That's how it works.