It's a tough time, and the airlines don't make it any easier with their humongous "bereavement" fare that is half of the highest price they can manage for a seat. I bounced around the U.S. in shock on a three-legged journey the day after I learned of my father's death. The flight crew knows who you are--aside from the deer-in-the-headlights look, if you make any eye contact at all, you're the one not talking to your seat mate, if you have one.

I met a marvelous man on my flight to Seattle when I learned of my mother's critical condition. I was seated in those odd front row seats on a Southwest flight so my row was knee-to-knee with three folks riding backwards. At a lull in the conversation I asked one of the locals for directions to Virginia Mason Hospital, and after ascertaining the reason for my visit this guy, who was apparently a local entrepreneur and inventor, who knows, maybe he's one of Bill Gate's friends or lackeys (it sounded like), proceeded to smoothly shift the conversation into the wonders of inventions. It may sound like it was a self-centered conversation, but it wasn't at all. His goal was to keep all of us talking and clearly, to keep me thinking about other things. I still think back very fondly to that flight and am one who can say I have truly encountered the kindness of strangers.

Give Pat a big hug, and one for you, too. Mike. It's going to be hard on you, also.

Maggie