Coping With Berets and Bevels

It's always the way. Once you have one part of your life in good shakes, another part falls to pieces. I've got my professional life in a good place. I'm working with some phenomenal people (including some really amazing fellow swings), I've got good friends, and I know where I'm headed. The personal stuff has been a little sketchy of late. Less than a week from burying my Grammy, we were back in hospital rooms with my uncle. The diagnosis is still lacking in specifics, but he has lung cancer. At first I was mad at the powers that be more than anything. It was the other side of the family but still, must we constantly be screwed? After six years in and out of hospitals with Grammy and my other Grandma going with a surprising but very blessed speed via heartache, couldn't we at least have a week off? Perhaps a few months? A year would be nice. I bargain shopped and danced my anger out today. (Currently really into striped boatnecks, skinny pants, and berets. I look absurdly French with my short hair and coloring). I'm grateful my family is caring and supportive. I'm grateful that we support each other thru both the shit and the roses. I love my crazy messed up Tennessee Williams family and I will be there for them thru this and whatever this and the next year brings with a smile and a bevel. And I know they will always be there for me. (Though when times get tough, chocolate, bubble baths, berets, and wine are excellent ways of coping.)