If we focus on the body, we can talk about death. Death is often meant to mean the end of the body pumping blood and pushing electricity. The body alive is lost in death.
We tend to equate this body lost to our loved one lost. Our loved one no longer apparently is - the body is no longer pumping blood nor pushing electricity. But, what we care for about those whom we hold the capacity to love is mostly not their body. We mostly care about the non-body sphere of consciousness we call *the deceased*.
Consciousness is consciousness - it is not many different things. Consciousness within me is consciousness within my dog. Though, it is still also true that I have conscious experience that is uniquely my own. Consciousness is distinguished from experience by consciousness.
My body provides an experience for consciousness, constraining consciousness by parameters through which consciousness can create. The physical realm provides constraints for conscious experience. With what we call death, this experience ends, freeing consciousness from its constraints. A body lost ends consciousness' experiment with that unique experience of consciousness.
The real issue with death lies with the limit of the future potential to create a new experience for consciousness along the unique line lost. The deceased, as a unique entity, can no longer create a differentiation of oneself, through one's body, from consciousness otherly constrained. The body lost was a constraint to consciousness in the form of whom we describe as *the deceased*, no longer representing *the deceased*'s unique creation of consciousness as such constrained.
