It hurts to live after someone has died. It just does. It can hurt to walk down a hallway or a open the fridge. It hurts to put on a pair of socks, to brush your teeth. Food tastes like nothing. Colors go flat. Music hurts, and so do memories. You look at something you'd otherwise find beautiful - a purple sky at sunset or a playground full of kids and it only somehow deepens the loss. Grief is so lonely this way.
In Michelle Obama's book "Becoming," she articulates the profound pain of living in the aftermath of a loss. The simple tasks of daily life become laden with anguish; even movements like walking down a hallway or brushing teeth are reminders of absence. The joy in food is replaced by a sense of emptiness, and beauty in the world appears dulled. The vividness of life is overshadowed by grief, making experiences that should be uplifting feel like a reminder of what has been lost.
Grief, as described by Obama, isolates individuals, turning even the most ordinary moments into a source of sadness. The things that once brought joy become triggers that amplify the sense of loneliness. Memories weigh heavily, transforming music and scenery into painful reflections of a loved one no longer present. This deep, pervasive sorrow underscores the emotional toll that comes with living after someone dies, showcasing how intertwined love and loss can shape one’s perception of the world.