I grew up in a family where emotions were not something you dealt with or at least dealt with like a normal human being. Feelings and emotions were generally shoved under the carpet at all expenses, and the motto was basically "suck it up and drive on."

I am not sure why this was the case because my parents were old school, and feelings were considered weak—a Darwinian measure for weeding out the inefficient hunters or gatherers. I am not sure, but I know that it had a huge impact on me.

My father always struggled with his feelings; after his passing, I remember saying to my sister that it was like he was trapped in his own head. He had such a hard time expressing himself and telling anybody, much less his family, how he felt. The only raw emotion anybody ever really saw was anger from him. The only time I remember him crying was after his mother died and a sweet old family dog. Then he would "suck it up" and move on again.

I knew that he loved me, not sure why, but I always knew it. He tried to be affectionate when an important family event surfaced (maybe because it was customary), and he would awkwardly try to hug me and tell me how proud he was of me. It always felt genuine but very strained and uncomfortable.

My mom, on the other hand, was a stone.

She was cold and emotionless. It used to make me feel like I was horrible and unloved, but as I got older and understood a bit of her childhood, it started to make more sense as to why she was the way she was. She could not help it. It was a defense mechanism for protecting herself from sadness, grief, or happiness. She did not have an easy childhood. Her father died when she was a child, and her mother worked to support her and her sister. My mother became a caregiver. Other things molded her into the person she became. A disease (a near-death bout of polio when she was a child) and near-death experiences (she is a two-time cancer survivor) made her shut down and go into protect mode. Feelings became inefficient. Feelings got you hurt.

I used to joke with people when they asked me what she was like when I was a child, an easy response. I would say, "efficient." She was very efficient; we wanted for nothing, all of our basic needs were met, she kept us warm and safe, and made sure we stayed out of trouble, but anything above and beyond that, the dealing with raw emotion, was just not her style.

It has been a week since the passing of my dear friend Mike Fontes. And while it is getting better, I am still struggling with all these emotions bubbling to the surface. I want to shove them down, but they keep surfacing. There is anger, sadness, and confusion but mostly sadness.

Since I have never been a touchy-feely person (see the beginning of this post) and not the best at handling raw emotions, dealing with this overwhelming sadness makes me want to scream. I find myself in a precariously, sensitive state all the time. It feels awkward and defenseless. I am at a loss for words as to how to cope with it all.

I know that death is a part of life, and I need to move past all the raw emotions and somehow accept things for what they are; I cannot help myself from crying at the 7-11 while getting gas. Something comes over me like a wave and then spills out on the pavement in front of me.

I run into somebody that knew him, there it goes, I see a post on Facebook, again another wave. I try to control it, but I cannot.

I was listening to this song on my iPod called "This too Shall Pass" by OKGo. I know it is true; this will pass. In the meantime, I am trying to deal, to cope, and to deal with seeing his face in my dreams and wondering if he is still running up there in the sky.

Run-on, my friend, run on.