Someone you love has died, and you're looking at her body. She looks like she's sleeping, like she could just wake up. Where is she?
She isn't. The person you loved has gone. The person you loved wasn't a physical object. All that is left of the beautiful, vibrant person you knew are the ripples she left in passing. You have your memories, you have your love, your grief, but she is gone. The physical thing before you used to be her dearest possession. Now it's not.
The person you loved was not a physical object, she was the result of physical objects. She was a process, she emerged from a collection of physical objects, she sprang into being from their interaction. Their motions created her, continuously, moment to moment, and when they ceased to cooperate, she ceased to be.
Your loved one was not the molecules of her body, she was their reaction. She was not the cells of her body, she was their cooperation. She was not an object in motion, she was the motion itself. And now that motion has ceased.
Except for the echo of that motion in you.