Continuing decades of absolutely terrible communication skills, my dad calls to tell me he's picking up his mother.
Me: "Oh, she's going to live with you now?"
Dad: "Nah. I'm picking her up from the morgue."
Me: "What happened?"
Dad: "She died."
Me: "How?" She was 95, so probably not skydiving or in a bank heist.
Dad: "I don't know. No one will tell me. But the cops just showed up to let me know she's dead. None of her caretakers are answering their phones. So I'm going to Connecticut tomorrow. I have no idea what I need to do. I guess I'll call you when I get there."
Me: "Ok. Let me know if there is anything I can do."
Dad: "Talk to you later."
2019 can suck a bag of porcupines.