The Boeing 777 tasked with shepherding its passengers from Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, held the promise of beginnings and endings for many on board: the thrill of a new adventure or dream vacation for some, and the comfort of going back home for others.

It was love and a fresh start that had lured Willem Grootscholten aboard. The burly, 53-year-old divorced former soldier from the Netherlands — a gentle giant of a man — had sold his house and was moving to Bali to build a new life with his darling Christine, a guesthouse owner.

He'd met her by chance on a trip to the Indonesian island last year.

Christine, who like many Indonesians has only one name, had heard through a friend that some guy had fallen off a cliff and hurt his back. She told her friend to take him to a traditional healer she knew. The next day, Grootscholten called Christine to thank her.

They connected over coffee. Grootscholten had to return to the Netherlands, where he was working as a bouncer at a pot-selling cafe. But the two stayed in touch online, and their relationship blossomed. On New Year's Eve, he surprised her by showing up at her doorstep. He stayed three weeks.

The father of Christine's two children, 14-year-old Dustin and 8-year-old Stephanie, had died six years ago, and they quickly bonded with Grootscholten, calling him "Daddy." The four stayed in touch online. Almost every day, they shared meals via Skype by placing their iPads on their tables during dinner for Christine's family and lunch for Grootscholten.

In May, Grootscholten returned to Bali to celebrate Christine's birthday and told her he wanted to spend the rest of his life beside her. She drove him to the airport on June 3 and kissed him goodbye.

It would be their last kiss.

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For 29-year-old New Zealander Rob Ayley, Flight 17 marked both the end of a month-long European trip and the start of a new career.

Life hadn't always been easy for Ayley. Diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome as a teen, he'd struggled to understand others' emotions. At 16, he dropped out of school and hopped from job to job — fast food, horticulture, cheese-making. He flitted between obsessions, from cars to drumming and eventually, to Rottweilers, after his parents bought him a puppy.

Along the way, he fell in love with a woman named Sharlene. They married and had two sons, Seth and Taylor. Fatherhood changed him; he was determined to provide for his family. He enrolled in college to study chemical engineering and decided to turn his Rottweiler fixation into a profit by becoming a breeder.

That dream prompted Ayley to book a trip to Europe with his friend Bill Patterson, a kennel owner. Ayley's goal: to look at Rottweilers and hopefully bring back breeding dogs to New Zealand.

The duo spent a month driving all over Europe, visiting kennels and grabbing a coffee, beer or meal with the owners. They delighted in speeding along the German autobahns in the small Peugeot they'd rented.

Finally, it was time to come home. On Wednesday night, Ayley sent his mother an email:

"It's been a long, long journey. We've seen the world's greatest Rottweilers, we have established contacts, and made life-long friends, but now I'm just ready to come home. I hope all is well, if we don't talk before hand, I will see you on Saturday. Lots of Love Rob"

Flight attendant Sanjid Singh was looking forward to getting home, too. He hadn't originally been scheduled for Flight 17, but he wanted to get back to Malaysia a day early to visit his parents in northern Penang state. So he asked a colleague to switch shifts.

Only five months ago, a similar last-minute switch had saved his family. His wife, also a flight attendant, had agreed to swap assignments with a colleague who wanted to be on board Malaysia Airlines Flight 370. The plane vanished en route to Beijing.

The near-miss rattled Singh's parents, who fretted about the pair continuing to fly. But Singh was pragmatic. "If I am fated to die, I will die," he said. "You have to accept it."

On Wednesday, he called his mother and told her the good news — he'd nabbed a spot on Flight 17 and would be there on Friday. Take care of yourself, he told his mother.

After they hung up, she said a prayer for Singh, the way she always did.

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Family was also the reason Irene Gunawan had booked a seat on Flight 17.

She was headed to an annual family reunion in the Philippines: a major event held at a resort that would include specially-designed shirts, drinking, singing and dancing. And 53-year-old Gunawan would — as always — be the star.

Gunawan was the light and laughter of her clan. The fifth of six children, the bubbly, music-loving girl had wanted to see the world outside her sleepy rural village. After high school, she moved to Japan to sing and drum in a band. There, she met Budy, a fellow band member.

They toured Europe together, playing music and eventually falling in love. They married and settled in the Netherlands, where she gave birth to Daryll and Sheryll, now 19 and 14. Gunawan took up office work, and sent money to her family in the Philippines. Budy worked as a supervisor at Malaysia Airlines in Amsterdam.

Gunawan flew back occasionally to the family's neighborhood, called "Heaven," in the town of Pagbilao, outside Manila. At reunions, she belted out songs by Norah Jones and Diana Ross. When neighbors heard the music, they knew she was in town.

This year, the couple and their two children were flying to Pagbilao, and Daryll was bringing his DJ equipment. They'd planned to leave earlier, but a typhoon was lashing the Philippines, so they delayed their trip until it subsided.

By chance, they nabbed seats on Flight 17.

Albert and Maree Rizk weren't supposed to be on that flight either.

Every year, the fun-loving 50-somethings from Melbourne, Australia, went on a month-long vacation with friends. They had hopscotched the globe, from Thailand to Fiji to Europe.

This time, the Rizks had nearly skipped the trip due to family commitments. Family came first for Albert, a real estate agent, and Maree, parents of two and beloved fixtures in their community.

A change of plans freed them up to join their friends, Ross and Sue Campbell, but they weren't able to snag a seat on the Campbells' return flight. So they bought tickets for the same route, a day later: Flight 17.

The Rizks and the Campbells had become more like family than friends since Sue and Maree met at a mother's group when their now-grown children were babies. They had a ball traveling through Italy, Switzerland and Germany. It felt like they'd laughed for a solid month. Together, they realized a lifelong goal: climbing to the top of the Klein Matterhorn in Switzerland.

On Tuesday night, the four gathered at an Italian restaurant for a final meal. They reminisced about their latest adventure — one of their best — and made plans for a reunion back in Australia. On Saturday, they would get together to feast on the delicious Dutch cheese they'd bought, drink wine and pore over their vacation photos.

The four headed back to the hotel, exchanged hugs and retired to their rooms.

Some friends were surprised that the Rizks were willing to fly Malaysia Airlines, after the disappearance of Flight 370. Maree's stepmother, Kaylene Mann, had lost her brother and sister-in-law in the disaster.

Albert's buddy of 30 years, Jack Medcraft, got in a friendly dig: Why Malaysia Airlines?

"Lightning never strikes twice," Albert replied.

They burst out laughing. The nonchalant explanation had a double meaning.

Albert's house had been struck by lightning last year.

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They all converged at Gate G3.

Singh and his fellow flight attendants finished their preparations. The announcement finally rang out. It was time to board.

Miguel and Shaka made their way to their seats in the first row of economy. Grootscholten was in the same row, two seats to their left. He'd just changed his Facebook cover photo to an image of Schiphol's air traffic control tower.

Farther back, Ayley settled into his seat. Against all odds, he'd made it. The anxious flier had shot one final message to his friend Patterson: "Gidday mate, leaving Amsterdam now. Great trip, not looking forward to the plane."

Up front, Albert and Maree Rizk slid into the first row of business class. Budy Gunawan sat down next to Maree. His wife Irene and their children settled in a few rows behind them. They'd been among the last to check in.

Irene, still worried about how her family was coping with the typhoon, sent one last text to her sister-in-law: "Hehehe Lov u, turning off cellphone, time to take off...take care always, you may get hit by falling trees."

She was on her way to Heaven.

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The bodies began to fall. The phones began to ring. The confusion erupted, the hearts broke. And the twists of fate or happenstance that brought these people to this plane on this day unfurled.