It’s about two middle aged guys who are dying at the same time who meet up with each other in hopes to find people that understand what they’re going through. They go on to write a bucket list and go their separate ways. One guy goes and does all these incredible random things. He travels to Cambodia, buys dessert in some obscure French restaurant, tries to break a Guiness world record and fails. He’s happy. He comes home and gets in touch with his friend and over some coffee asks him what he did.
He says that he went to see his neurotic father and stood there as he yelled at him and verbally abused him. He visited his mom across the country and sat there for a few weeks and all she could talk about was how much she hated his father and why she divorced him. He traveled to meet his brother and sister and all they told him was how much he was worthless and pathetic and never did anything with his life. No one knew he was dying.
The first guy asks the second guy why he did that, and he replies, “I did it because they’re my family, and I know they’re not perfect and they’ll never be perfect; I know that. But I only have one family. We spent so much time hurting each other that at the end of the day, the only thing we’d ever wish for, was one more day with family.”
The next day they get up early to see the sunrise on top of a hill. The second person, the one who saw his family, lays down and falls asleep. He never wakes up.
The last thing you see is the first person knocking at the front door of some random house. The door opens and he says, “Hey mom. . .”