Nicholas Hughes, the son of Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes, is reported to have taken his own life last week. A professor of fisheries and ocean sciences, at the University of Alaska, Hughes was 47.
I'm not sure why but this news fills me with a profound sadness. Something about the 'sins of the fathers' and all that Lear stuff -- I'm really sorry he didn't manage to lose his own demons even while having to live with his mother's.
Much is made of happiness and I'm not sure that I hold with the current American idea that one should be happy all of the time. Sadness and melancholy contribute to life's glorious prism. Death is a very final choice, however.