When Antonella Galindo Merlo died last year in a tragic accident while studying abroad in Melbourne, Australia, we lost a relentless light and everlasting presence that shaped the lives of everyone she touched.  

Antonella was poised to graduate this spring with a degree in international affairs and a minor in psychological and brain sciences. She found her truest happiness at home, surrounded by family in Quito, Ecuador, or lost in the serenity of nature, with music filling the air and animals — particularly dogs — by her side.

As the 2025 Commencement approaches, we wrote snapshots of the mark she left on us and the passions she embodied, from spirituality to cinema. These memories are our attempt to grasp a fraction of the fullness she radiated. We hope this tribute offers the GW community a glimpse into the kind of person she was, the depth of her presence and the quiet power she carried with her.

Maria Teresa Furtado ‘25: Spirituality

I didn’t know anything about spirituality when I first met Antonella. What I knew came from the media, crystals and astrology. During her gap year, she experienced fundamental changes in her life spiritually. She spent time studying Buddhism and made spiritual beliefs the center of her life. Our perspectives on life were vastly different. I often complained, talked over people and struggled with the transition to college. Antonella always had patience with me. I remember her telling me in our West Hall common space that “sometimes, what bothers us about others is a reflection of what bothers us about ourselves.” 

As we grew together, I realized how wise Antonella was. To say she had an open mind is an understatement. She was curious about the world and others’ perspectives and loved learning new ways to think from books or spiritual ideologies. I remember always running and seeking her advice and words of wisdom — though I often did not follow them. 

Everything changed during my sophomore year. I went through something personal, and as the pillars I built my life on broke, I felt lost. As I always did, I turned to Antonella. Together, we went through everything she had learned: the power of presence, authenticity, the subconscious mind, the vitality of nature. I will never see the world the same. 

When I give people advice, they sometimes say it’s wise or rich. But I’m just repeating what Antonella once told me. She didn’t just value spirituality intellectually — she lived it. Compassion poured from her, not just for others or the world but for herself. It felt like she had lived a thousand lives and was here to show the rest of us how to live. Antonella is still alive, not only in us and everyone she loved, but in the energy we admire and aspire to live by. 

Enara Binuki Thiruchelvam ‘25: Movies 

There’s a shared note in my phone between Antonella and I titled “Top Movies.” We started it in the fall of our sophomore year, right after we stopped living together and could no longer end our nights watching movies on our projector. It became a collection of our favorite films and ones we hoped to watch. 

Antonella’s rules for watching movies were something we bonded over: no other screens allowed and everyone had to pay attention. In her very Antonella way, she’d “gently” urge everyone to put away their phones and laptops, to be fully present with the film. She hated when people weren’t “there”— and that’s something she imparted on me from the moment we met. 

My favorite memory of us is a Sunday evening during our first spring in college, watching “Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” on her bed in West Hall. Her window looked out onto a tree she photographed every day, saved in a private album on her phone. Her room was always perfectly tidy, with affirmation Post-its around her desk mirror and a serenity that would envelop anyone who walked through her threshold. 

We had her laptop balanced on our legs, exchanging comments about our favorite cinematography shots, when all of a sudden, I felt such an overwhelming joy at how fulfilling this simple moment was that I started to tear up. Of course, she noticed and laughed, and when I tried to explain, smiled in her Antonella way and told me to pay attention.

Sometimes, when I miss her friendship, I close my eyes and return to that evening. And as I slowly make my way through the list of movies we once promised to watch together, I make sure to be present, to fully appreciate what sits in front of me and remember how lucky I am to see it.

Marina Houmani ‘25: Music

One of the first things Antonella and I bonded over was music and our favorite artists. Since freshman year, we would exchange music that we thought we would like. Whenever I would come over or when we lived together, music flowed through the dorm. Her taste was impeccable — whether it be house, reggae, afrobeats or Latin, she always knew exactly what music to play for the moment.

What made Antonella’s relationship with music significant wasn’t just her taste or her ability to connect with others through it, but her ability to feel it — almost as if she were living in each song. She would tell us to just listen and “feel” the music, and sometimes she would close her eyes and sway to the rhythm. She found the soul of a song and held onto it, and her energy was contagious. When you were with her, it felt as though you were discovering it too.

I admired her greatly, not only for her kindness or her depth, but for her ability to make people feel seen through something as simple and profound as a shared song. She would always say that she loved it when people shared music with her — she viewed this act as a love language. One of our last few messages was a song she told me to listen to, and I like to think that this was one of her last ways of sharing her love with me before she passed. She is no longer with us in the physical world, but I know that her soul is eternally dancing to the music that she loved. 

Parviz Henderson ‘25: Nature

Many of my favorite memories with Antonella, and in my life, have involved adventures in nature. Whether it was going on walks down her favorite Scott’s Run trail outside D.C., a weekend excursion to Shenandoah, enjoying beach days in San Diego, Calif., tubing down the Napo River in Ecuador or our coastal hike to Bushrangers Bay outside Melbourne, Australia, during my last few days with her, she was one with the world around her.

When Antonella passed, much of the color in my life washed away. Her presence was magnetic, and her love for life radiated contagiously to those around her. Being in nature with Antonella was always one of the purest ways to feel this energy. She would tell me how I “unlocked her inner child,” and I was honored that she felt comfortable sharing her wonderment for life. In these cherished moments, seeing the world through her eyes, I remember the sense of serenity I felt. The only thing that existed was the dirt between our toes or the water swelling around us. We’d sit watching a sunset, a waterfall and clouds or stars in the sky, fully present, absorbing the moment. She’d see a porcupine and fearlessly reach out a hand to say hello, urging me it was safe as I held her shirt or stop to give a wise, old tree a hug, resting her cheek against its bark. 

Being with her and witnessing her as she danced through nature are some of the most magical moments of my life, and for the rest of my days, I will yearn for more of them. In the meantime, every time I see a beautiful spectacle of nature, I bless it and scan it with my hands and eyes, sending a mental picture of it to share with her. Her soul eternally lives on in the nature she cherished, and her energy will continue to nourish the world.