The funeral home in Honey Grove wasn’t anything odd when I was a kid visiting my grandparents there. It was big and old. Maybe a little musty and certainly boring. But when I was visiting the place growing up, I never gave much thought to just how it came into the family. After all, grandparents are always old to a kid, and the house was old–so a big, old house in the family seemed just about right. I learned the family history little by little over the years–that the funeral home had once also had a store attached, that there had been a post office there, that it had belonged to my great…