I was a passenger on a flight from Pittsburgh to Allentown, Pennsylvania, late one evening. The young lady sitting beside me, who seemed to be about 18 or 19 years old, was crying continuously throughout the short flight. After about 20 minutes of this, I asked her what was wrong and if I could help her.

"My grandmother just died," she sobbed. "I was holding her in my arms when she died."

"Oh, that must have been rough," I said, squeezing her shoulder in sympathy.

"Why, oh why did she die while I was holding her? Why couldn't she stay alive while I was with her?"

A lightbulb came on in my mind. "Your grandma was probably waiting to see you one more time before she died," I said.

The young lady's sobs quieted to a sniffle. "Do you really think so?"

"Maybe she felt safe enough to let go with you there to hold her," I suggested.

At that, a smile broke through her tears. "Maybe she did! She's been sick for a long time."

"She was waiting for you," I said smiling back at her.

When the girl left the plane in Allentown, her steps were sure and her tears had stopped. I'd like to think I made a difference in her time of sorrow.