They say it's a bad omen to meet at a funeral. But it was there that Louise and Leon met. She is the daughter of a follower of Freud, raised in a New York Orthodox Jewish family, he is a budding psychotherapist. On their very first date, they manage to evoke dislike for each other, but the second, almost accidental meeting changes everything. Thus begins the story of the Rosenberg family—sometimes funny, sometimes absurd to the point of shock, and piercing to tears. Everything goes well for them until Louise learns of her illness, the same one that slowly but inevitably took her mother to the grave, and she decides to take control of her remaining time. Is there more self-denial or selfishness in this act? It's hard to say, for love cannot be measured, but it is always stronger than death.
