I hate birthdays. I can never remember any besides my own. Luckily, I have Facebook to remember all of them for me. Then, that one day comes along when that certain friend decides to put on a fake birthday on his or her Facebook account and I end up as that foolish friend who comments on the wrong day or the day you can’t rely on Facebook’s birthday notifications because your dad doesn’t have a Facebook.

On one particular day, I woke up really late, and my mom was making traditional Korean soup. I didn’t make anything of it. Waking up to the smell of Korean cuisine was a norm. I went to go watch television, until my dad popped out and asked if I knew what the day was. I quickly listed all the typical annual events; Was it my parent’s anniversary, my grandmother’s birthday, or someone’s of wedding? After trying out several guesses, my dad finally answered, “It’s my birthday”, and the disappointment in his voice wasn’t particularly well disguised. I was hit by the aroma of the Korean soup, also commonly known as “traditional birthday soup”; how could I be so stupid? At that moment, I swore to myself to remember his birthday every year. Many do not understand my frustration and sadness that one event had on me. To me, my dad is my best friend. No one can break the bond we share. Although, I admit that I do not treat him the way I treat my best friends simply because I take him for granted. I wanted him to have a single day devoted to him without disappointments much like those of that difficult year. He carried the burden of business failure and the sadness of a brother towards a sister with ovarian cancer. For my dad who never once had forgotten my birthday, I was deeply grieved.

The next year, I was determined to create a memorable birthday filled with family and food: the two things that make a special day. My mother and I prepared a feast and invited few of