The last time Osiris Martinez saw Omara Gonzalez, she was a teenager just boarding a Cubana Airlines plane in Miami a half century ago. Soon after take off, the plane was hijacked -- with both on board -- and later crashed in the first international hijacking from U.S. soil.

But it wasn't until Saturday the two passengers -- pushing through a crowded Miami-Dade church -- met for the first time since the plane plunged into the dark waters off eastern Cuba.

The 81-year-old man reached for Gonzalez with his left arm, a wide smile beneath his white goatee.

''Look at who's here,'' he said, hugging her. "I've never met you personally.''

Hundreds of people watched the two embrace in St. Brendan Catholic Church, during the first memorial service for those who perished in the tragedy on Nov. 1, 1958.

Fourteen people died when the airliner -- destined for the Cuban town of Varadero -- crashed after running out of fuel in the waning weeks of the Cuban revolution. Martinez lost his wife and three young children: 2, 4 and 5. Of the six people who survived, three now live in Miami -- including Martinez and Gonzalez. The third -- Edmundo Ponce de Leon -- was identified as one of the hijacking suspects in a Miami Herald story published last week.

The 72-year-old insists he was just a passenger and not among the hijackers who had secretly loaded the plane with guns and ammunition for Fidel Castro's forces.

But for most of the service on Saturday, his name was rarely mentioned.

While some brushed away tears, the Rev. Fernando Hería stepped from the altar and implored the survivors to forgive the men who tore apart their lives.

STRENGTH TO FORGIVE

With his arms outstretched and his voice echoing across the church, Hería said that in the end, "justice and truth would prevail.

''We remember those who gave their lives innocently,'' he said, "and we ask for God to give in our hearts the strength for us to forgive those responsible.''

Hería spent much of the time talking directly to Martinez and Gonzalez, who sat in a front pew with relatives of the airliner's chief pilot, Capt. Ruskin Medrano, whose body was pulled from the water.

Maria Bray Medrano, 85, said that despite the priest's plea, she will still struggle to forgive the hijackers who barged into the cabin and forced her husband to divert the plane 20 minutes after take-off. ''My husband did nothing'' to deserve to die, she said, ``and I was left a widow with two children.''

For a time, the hijacking was considered one of the most brazen ever committed -- five hijackers in rebel uniforms and wielding guns.

In the ensuing decade, 19 more hijackings followed between the United States and Cuba. But few of those were as deadly as 1958's.

Federal prosecutors launched an investigation the day after the crash, but suspended the case three months later, saying the subjects were in Cuba. No one was ever charged.

Two of the suspects died when the plane went down, while three others, including Ponce de Leon, joined the rebel forces in the nearby mountains, according to U.S. government records.

Several worshipers on Saturday said they were upset the case was never resolved, despite widespread publicity in Cuba and the United States.

''This was a crime that was committed, and people have forgot about it,'' said Carlos Lazo, 79, a pilot who flew to the crash with Red Cross workers.

SCARS REMAIN

Gonzalez said she remains haunted by her experiences during the final moments of the flight, the plane shaking violently in the air while the pilot tried to land in the darkness below. Her 65-year-old grandfather drowned after the craft broke apart on the water. Though she was 16 at the time, she said she is still restless. ''We need to forgive, but we need justice,'' she said. Soon after the Mass, Martinez promised Gonzalez he'd call her and quickly walked out of the church.

Several younger relatives of those who died lingered, however, prying each other for details. ''We've lived with this so long, and were often told things we didn't know from older relatives,'' said Yvette Pita Frampton, 35, a granddaughter of the dead pilot.

``But I want to know for myself what happened. This has been forgotten for so long that it needs to be told, so that we never forget.''