An Invisible Defeat

It was D-Day again. Max sighed. The years have gone by and he still mourned. He must move on, he thought, but he was lazy somehow. He did not seem to have any energy left to start a new relationship or even to go on a casual date. It was all he could do to wake up in the morning and go to work. He often wished he was well off enough not to go to work and stay at home. That way he could drink until he went into a stupor, or sleep all day and not be missed. But, no, he had to work, to feed himself, to pay the electricity bill and water supply. The daily humdrum of living. Working as a packer at the furniture factory suited him just fine, even though he had a degree in anthropology. He did not want any interaction with people so putting his head down and packing furniture pieces in boxes suited him fine.
D-Day was a private thing with him. He was an orphan and nobody shared any private information with him,except for one single friend whom he did not want to burden with his problems and troubles.
He looked into his coffee mug, his thoughts flying off to the day three years ago, when he was a different man in another lifetime. He was working in a different environment then. He was married with a child. He loved them as they were part of his life and always there for him. His remembered his Sandy his wife of five years, her long black hair cascading down her back, her brown eyes looking into his own, always with a smile. He remembered not being too happy with her at that time, as she had postponed a trip to the seaside with him because her parents were coming over.
He remembered his son, Stephen, whom he called Stigger, a little boy of three with his tight curls and soulful eyes. Both of them had looked at him, looking sorry, that day, as he sulked. He had so wanted to go to the beach with them, to relax. It had been a long week at work. But no, they had been more interested to see her parents then to go with him.
He had gone to the beach on his own, his anger simmering over his heart. He had brought with him a couple of six packs and as soon as he settled, he started drinking. As his drunkenness started to peak his self-pity started to spread like poison. He felt neglected...here he was working his ass off for them, providing them with a beautiful house with all the comfort money could buy. Ungrateful, that's what they are, his mind ranted, can't even be with him just for a day away. Bloody Hell! Maybe she wriggled under him at night, and at times on top...pretending all the time! Maybe the boy wasn't his!  
Unknown to him, her parents had cancelled their trip as soon as he left the house, and his wife had been trying to get him on his cellphone all morning. His cell was forgotten on the seat of his car, while he nursed his drunken ranting.  
She had then taken her car and strapping Stigger in his baby seat, she had drove off to look for him at the beach. It was a fine day, but somehow Sandy and Stigger never made it to the beach. The highway was strewn with debris from the honda, with Sandy and Stigger with it. A truck had bump into them sending them over the other side of the road. They never had a chance.  
D-Day was the double funeral. He never forgot and he never erased her last text in his phone...it had been simple 'I love you baby, we are coming!'
He wondered how he went through the days and weeks after that. The funeral was vaguely surreal, like he was watching from the sideline, nodding at visitors and acknowledging her parents. It went by so fast, and when he came to he was alone in an empty house with the walls reverberating with memories of her and their baby.  
He mourned so hard, that he physically hurt, everything seemed to be aching, his heart seemed to beat like a perfunctory drum...and he despised himself for his drunken thoughts of her; his stupid trite rants and his selfishness. He grieved for his innocent little boy; his pain was like a festering wound in his chest. For several months, he slept through the day and when he woke up again, he drank himself back to a stupor.  
He sold his house soon after, and left town. He brought nothing with him but his clothes and a few token of the marriage.  
Now looking out at the vast quiet countryside, he felt purged somehow, nothing was alive within him.  
He sighed, turned over on the couch and closed his eyes; hoping to glimpse his two beloved as he went to sleep.