He was more than that, River. He'll always be more than that, no matter where the two of you are. It wouldn't hurt so much, otherwise. Deep down in your heart, he's still right there and he's not going anywhere. It's hard to remember that sometimes, but in a storm like this, clinging to that's the only thing you can do.
I know it's hard. Feels like it's too hard, some days. Sometimes, no matter what you do, even if you do everything right, sometimes the world is gonna spin topsy-turvy and try to shatter you into as many pieces as possible. Sometimes it will. When it does, it's going to feel like the only way out is to just lay there and let everything fall apart. Seems pretty tempting. I know it is, I spent years doing just that.
Instead, you pick up the pieces. You wait until the world stops spinning. Then you start putting the pieces back together. Maybe it takes you awhile, maybe you have to just sit and figure out how they fit. Maybe some of them have to be rejiggered so that they'll fit right. Sometimes you might even need help, and when you do all you'll have to do is look up and see that there are other people putting their own pieces back together. Maybe they can help. Maybe you can help them with theirs.
That's what makes us more than figments, River. It's our pain. Not because it breaks us, but because of how we pick ourselves up and put ourselves back together. The broken bird can mend and the sounds can become songs again.