I recall it very well, even though I was in grade school. It was as if everyone was numb and as if nobody really knew what anyone "was supposed to" do.
My mother had planned to take my sister and me into Boston the following day, because we were going to do some Christmas shopping. After the President was killed my mother went back and forth a little about whether we should still go. I guess she figured it might be good to go ahead with the plans, maybe because we'd spent that day before, watching such awful coverage.
We took the elevator train into Boston, and the President's picture could be seen as the train went underground. It was a gray day with snow falling, and the President's picture was in the window of Jordan Marsh, where we were planning to shop. Downtown Boston was quiet, and we felt like it had been a mistake to even go there; so we didn't stay long. People on the train just sat there in silence.
It was eerie and, again, we were just kind of numbed and at a loss for what we ought to be doing. Other people I know who recall that day have said that, to this day, they get nervous on Inauguration Day when a President walks for awhile, outside the car. They/we think how we wish whatever President it is would hurry up and get somewhere that seems safer. When that walk is over people will generally feel like they can breathe a sigh of relief. That's no how people should feel, of course; but no matter how long it's been, that's how a lot of people do feel.