Hello, I'm sorry to inform you I'll be using this technology like an asshole

That's how certain e-mails or voice mails -- or blog posts, for that matter -- should begin when the purpose of the following message is to break very bad news.

Like tonight.

When I got a VOICE MAIL informing me that an old friend -- a dear friend -- died mysteriously in her sleep. By old, I mean long-time. She was just about my age. Which is not old, if you're wondering. I'm only 37.

I was stunned to hear this message. And how this information was passed on to me ... whoa ... that's *messed up.*

Took me right back to the day last year when, out of the blue, I got an e-mail at work -- going to my work e-mail made it all the worse, even though it had no business in e-mail AT ALL -- that my grandfather was dying. And by "dying," I mean literally. I didn't quite understand that in the moment. Until I called the old goat and heard the immense pain in his voice. Bone cancer is some nasty shit. He told me he'd be getting out of the hospital the next day.

So the next morning, there was another e-mail. He had, indeed, checked out. Died in the middle of the night.

Which I learned about in a fucking e-mail. At work -- again. Where I promptly burst into tears. And, thus, rather humiliated myself because doing *that* was just not part of the corporate culture there....

Then, earlier this year, a former co-worker of whom I was quite fond died from cancer. I knew she was gravely ill and would die, but I was still disgusted to find out about her death, via a third party who did not know her, in an e-mail. "Oh, I was sorry to hear about so-and-so's death," the e-mail said. "That was a real shock."

So was the e-mail.

Hasn't anybody ever heard of the telephone?! And if you use it, just say: Uh, call me back. Rather than leaving a message like: Oh, so-and-so died. Especially when you know the recipient would be upset to hear that shit. WHAT THE FUCK, dude?!

The thing in common here -- aside from death -- is the empty, one-sided nature of the communication. Voice mails and e-mails remove the relating, the momentary commiserating, the softening of the blow, the expression of shock and sadness (or whatever you feel) that occurs between two people who are actually speaking to each other. You become simply a recipient. There's not even a person to whom you can say, "When?" (And, inevitably, there's some important information missing. I don't know if my friend died yesterday or two weeks ago.)

I experience these moments as massive voids, even though they are potent communications. It feels like a sucker punch. Because there's never the hemming and hawing that -- in a conversation -- occurs before someone drops a bomb. None of these communications I'm talking about here included any, "Gee, UCM, I don't know how to tell you this... I've got some bad news...." Instead, they've been jarringly direct, which makes them all the more disturbing.

So ... I'm stunned, and I'm deeply saddened. My friend was way too young to be dying in her sleep, even though that seems like a pretty decent way to go. And, as obvious here in this blog, I'm sickened by the way I learned about it. Next time, I'm hoping someone will employ a little decency and just ask me to call back. In the meantime, I'll file this one away in the "Ain't-Gonna-Do-That-To-Others" category. 'Cause that shit's just not right.