Amelia

Charlie, a stout man, who could never quite grow facial hair walked into Amelia's room to find her dead. almost without emotion, stifling it for the sake of respectful silence he picked up his little girl, who had only turned four a week past, carried her to the living room, and placed her on the coffee table which was already prepared with a sheet. he did this in a numb state and had no reason for moving her other than it seemed respectful of his late daughter. he stared at nothing in disbelief. He didn't know how he would tell her mother. still in shock he went out and build a small coffin. He lined it with first a sheet, then her blankets from her birth. He placed her in then her bear. he held her and stroked her hair for quite some time. He put her in, and kissed her for the last time before nailing her coffin shut.
Next he did what was legally necessary by calling the local officials, to obtain a death certificate.
He decided how to tell her mother. First though, he dug the hole and buried her. On his way in he saw the barn needed repair, so he mended it appropriately, saddled up his horse, and rode for the rest of the day to a little house just outside of town. He walked in. She looked up from her sewing and knew something was wrong right away. He tells her. She looks relieved. He cannot detect any of her sorrow. This is part of the reason she lives here.
Charlie is dumbfounded by this, he leaves. His eyes tear up on the way home, from the dust, and from the unemotional face of this woman. As he gets closer to where his Amelia used to live, he outright cries for her for the first time.
when he returns home, he falls into a routine. Changed very little by seasons, and changes this routine only twice. Once to bury a big hole next to the stone with his daughters name, and the second time to lie in it.