Neighbors at Night

8. Sage

It was a normal day, just a random Monday in the middle of March.

But it was also the anniversary of my dad's death. 

I had it written in my calendar, and had even gotten up earlier that morning to get ready for the occasion, but I'd still managed to completely forget about it until I'd gotten home. 

Mom was waiting for me in the living room when I walked into the apartment and I felt my heart drop as I recalled what day it was. I may not have known him very well (if at all) but he was still my father at one point or another. 

Dad had been buried in a cemetery only an hour away from where we lived and Mom guaranteed that we visited every year, especially on days like today.

Instead of immediately going to the cemetery though, Mom always said she'd thought it better to celebrate his life before we mourned his death. It had become a tradition of sorts; preparing all of Dad's favorite foods and dining with his photo at the dinner table. 

Mom spent years perfecting both his homemade spicy Tteok-bokki and the Kimchi that grandma had regularly made for him on special days and celebrations. I rarely saw my dad's mother since she moved back to Korea only a few years after his passing. So I'd only ever tried her famous Kimchi recipe once, but I could definitely understand why my dad had been partial to it. 

I examined Dad's photo as Mom set the table, briefly wondering if I looked like him at all or if we were similar in any way. 

Mom often told me that our personalities were alike but I couldn't exactly know if that was really true or not. It was easy to see resemblance physically; I'd retained most of his facial features, and it was obvious to see when standing next to my clearly Caucasian mother. 

But otherwise-.

"Ready, honey?" 

I flinched slightly at the sound of my mom's voice, shifting my gaze away from the picture frame to look at her beside me. 

I smiled, "It looks great, mom." 

At least that much was true. While Mom would probably never be able to make Korean cuisine as well as someone who was actually born and raised there she definitely always gave the recipes her all, which is all anyone could ask for (right?). 

"It does, doesn't it? I think Han would be proud of me." 

I wanted to agree but . . . I couldn't. 

I tried a bite of the Tteok-bokki, humming at the taste because it was actually pretty good; then again, it'd be a bit concerning if it wasn't considering how many times she'd made it. 

"Is it good?" I nodded my head in response to Mom's question as I stacked a piece of kimchi on some rice and ate it off the spoon. I heard her laugh at my reply and glanced over at her just as I finished chewing the food in my mouth. 

She seemed happy, if not a bit tired, and it made me feel the same in return. 

"Is Uncle Chan coming over too?" 

Chan-gyeol was Dad's only sibling and older brother. Grandma wanted him to move back to Korea with her but he'd refused, claiming that it was because of his job although - secretly - I knew he wanted to stay for us. 

He came over all the time after dad passed, so much so that he'd practically become the fatherly figure I'd never been able to have.

Mom nodded, "He'll drive up with us to the cemetery." 

"Okay. So then is he-," I abruptly stopped as I heard a strange noise coming from outside the apartment. 

"What is it, honey?"