Can an M&M Offer Faith?

C informed me this evening he believed dead is dead. He doesn't believe any of the typical notions of heaven, recycled energy, or otherwise. . .

Dead.

I respect his notions.

But I can't believe them entirely.

This afternoon, I uncermoniously pulled my Father's bathrobe out of a plastic bag. When he went to the hospital, we agreed he might need a bathrobe. So we put a bathrobe in a plastic grocery bag. The robe sat near our sofa for nearly a month. Holidays and guests came and went. . .

Today, I pulled out the robe. You know what flew out? A red, slightly chewed M&M.

I laughed out loud.

Anyone that knows Pops knows one of his favorite candies is an M&M. Pops loved all sorts of sweet treats late at night: peanut butter cups, oreos, cake, M&Ms. The fact that it had a bite out of it and was with his bathrobe made me smile.

Logically, I understand the apple doesn't fall far and I also partake of the M&Ms late at night. I'm sure one of our pets dropped that M&M half gnawed with his bathrobe. . . .

I also understand, they could have dropped it anywhere else in our spacious 920 sq. ft. row house. . .Or they could have eaten the entire candy. . .

It just happened to land, half eaten with his bathrobe.

Dead is Dead. . .?

Or maybe not exactly?

Hopefully?

The comfort one little half chewed M&M offers is amazing.

What does C know anyway?