
When my mom died after heart surgery, I went around telling people that the surgery had been a success, but the patient had died.

(In fact, it was the success of the surgery that killed her...they repaired the valve, but the damaged heart muscle then couldn't provide sufficient force to circulate the blood through the repaired valve.)
When my uncle's ashes were stolen by an opportunistic (but doubtless ultimately disappointed) house breaker, I quipped to my surviving uncle that I'd been waiting for him to go too, so I could have the full set, but now that plan was ruined.

There's always a funny side.

--A