I've always found that the most difficult part of death to come to terms with is accepting that this person, who you loved and cherished so dearly, is no longer part of "the story"-- the narrative of existence we experience day to day. When someone close to us dies, "the story" just carries on. It's so sudden, they just seem to vanish. Everyone around you goes back to the daily routine, but you're just sitting there feeling shattered and lost. It's maddening. It makes you want to scream sometimes.
Life moves on. People will look at you with sympathetic eyes, and give you a big hug, and say "There there, it will get easier. You'll get through this." But we don't want to move on. We don't want to let go! It doesn't make any sense for life to continue without them, and nobody else can see that or understand that. The world is oblivious to it, and it hurts so very badly to think we might someday forget their face, or their voice... yes, letting go is terrifying. It's final.
Well, you feel like that for a while. Weeks, months even. I do, anyway.* I feel this kind of bitter defiance and resentment towards everything, as if everyone should be hurting as much as I am. And as much as I appreciate the well-wishes and moral support of friends, family and strangers alike, everything they say just sounds so clichéd and impersonal. We've all heard the lines so many times before. But this time is different, because it's happening to us, and nobody knows why this is so important to us.
Our pain, of course, is absolutely selfish. There's no reason anybody should care about it. Life doesn't care because, truly, it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. Grief is a very personal experience, and I think that's why we struggle with it so much. Even though every person alive will someday experience the pain of losing someone they cherished, it still ends up being such a lonely, isolating experience. But because we all know this pain in our own unique ways, the best support we can offer someone else going through it is... "There there, it will get easier. You'll get through this."
There's no great revelation in the future. You never reach a point where you feel okay about it. Time just erodes the pain. You can't stop life from carrying on, so for a long time, you just seem to coast and let it drag you along. But every time a random thought of them occurs and makes you cry again, it gets a little easier. And you do forget their voice. That part still hurts, just not in the urgent, panicky way you imagined before. The wound becomes a scar, a sorry reminder, but no longer a stabbing pain that threatens your whole existence.
Well... for what it's worth, and I wish it was worth a whole lot more: you'll get through this, Fish.
*I'm speaking about past experiences, no current loss. I'm just offering a perspective, not trying to hijack the thread.