A doctor later confirmed what the paramedic had suspected. Karl had died of a heart attack.
Four days later, I buried him.
I handled everything because there was no one else to do it.
The only family contact I found in his phone was a cousin named Daniel. He came to the funeral, but no one else from Karl’s family showed up.
He stood off to the side after the service, hands in his coat pockets, looking like someone who wanted to leave but knew it would look wrong.
I walked over to him, grief having burned away any softness in me.
“You’re Karl’s cousin, right?”
He nodded. “Daniel.”
“I thought his parents would come.”
