The wake and funeral now exist merely in memory, though the physical tiredness makes us aware that all the busyness ended yesterday. Now our regular routines must resume. For those closer and more directly involved in Auntie's life, the routines have already begun changing, leaving a certain greyhound bewildered as to why she's no longer there to administer special treats. Others of us, however, will experience no practical alterations to our daily lives.
But we all feel the unwanted vacuum. Auntie/Mom/Sis/Nana has left us. She made her exit as quietly and peacefully as she lived among us, with characteristic dignity and beauty. Those of us who merely married into the family shed as many tears as her actual relatives do, perhaps because each of us couldn't resist someone so gentle. So regardless of the varying degrees that our routines change or don't change, the vacuum changes us. And we miss her.