The Barbecue predicament - the objects that make a couple

 I need to get rid of our BBQ, it is rusty, the bottom has collapsed and it is not fit for purpose anymore, so it needs to go. The only thing is that BBQ was my husband's "toy", his pride and joy. We bought it in France and  we had many barbecues together. That BBQ saw a family of three become four and then again three. 

A different kind of four. The new man in my life

It was on that Barbecue that I made my first Mother's day solo BBQ, between tears and smoke, I ploughed through cooking a meal for me and the children. I cooked many more in the solitude of my widowhood journey. 

That BBQ brought much joy, as well as well as harmless arguments, Julien had a tenacity for burning meat, he would serve carbonised chicken, black on the outside and raw in the inside. In my Brazilianess I would squirm at the sight of the chicken, charred and almost inedible, however the steak on the other hand would be so rare, you would think the cow was alive.

Showing his cooking prowess on a portable BBQ before the new purchase.

I would give him a lesson or two, he would grimace and get annoyed, that was our little dance. Silly, I know, but couples will be couples. The French in him thought he was an inherently good cook, and I though I was an expert, neither true but hey. Food was an ever present fixture in our life, from our first date in a Italian restaurant in Clapham (London) to our little dinners at home. 

The symbolism is obvious, that BBQ represented the ups and downs of our marriage, our different temperaments and also unity, this BBQ crumbled. I cried at the thought of disposing of it, yet another item that was ours going to the bin, I would carry nothing more than memories.

I think barbecues are wonderful bonding experiments, all elements present at once; the sharing, the nice weather (for the most part), and finally this long cooking process that allows for conversations and drinks to flow.

It filled me with sadness to part with it, in a more intense way to when I donated most of Julien's clothes to a homeless charity, which happened within a couple of weeks of him passing. I was numb then, but now almost 2 and half years on, I have a clarity and sobriety that puts thing into a sharp focus. I was not protected with numbness, nothing else was blunt, I was indeed getting rid of stuff that was as much a part of him as it was a part of myself.  

The BBQ is gone, and slowly life morphs into a life that is very different from my old one. I may add that it was my boyfriend that  bought me a new BBQ. He was practical, and blissfully unaware that I shed quiet tears at the thought of disposing of my BBQ.

 It seems fitting, a new boyfriend and a new BBQ, a bit akin to moving into a new house and enjoying the new decor and modern cons, while you are  still missing your old house.

I don't want to talk too much about this man in my life, this is new territory which sits in the contrast of the familiarity and complicity of my 12 years marriage.

We are still getting to know each other and nobody knows where it will lead. There are no promises, from either party, we wait and test the waters hopeful that this new love will continue to blossom, not under the shadow of my late husband but a story that is unique to us.