Death is one of the few (maybe the only) binary oppositional states we can depend on. It is just inarguable. You are, or you are not (although Schrodinger’s cat muddies the water a little, maybe).

After that, it is a matter of personal and cultural preference. If, for instance, I were asked to describe hearing of the death of a close one (you), it would be something like:

It feels as though a very large, dry log has dropped from a height and landed nearby. Sound and shockwaves reverberate and shake me worryingly. I am stunned to the core. It’s an arid, lifeless log, too big to ignore yet with no discernible purpose but to remind.  I curl inwards and try to make sense but the log has sucked up any sense that could be made.

It takes hours to believe in the new state of affairs and to begin to think of the enormity of the loss of you, my dear. If I try to escape these new thoughts, the log lies in the middle of everything as a constant reminder.