Sylvia Plath's son committs suicide

Nicholas Plath, 47, committed suicide about a week ago in Alaska. I had not heard. This might all be old news to you all. How awful. I don't really know much about Sylvia Plath or Ted Hughes. I had to read a few of her poems in high school, but never read The Bell Jar or all of the Ariel poems. And I've never read anything of Ted Hughes's. And to be honest, I didn't know anything about their very tragic lives together and what happened even after her suicide. Really upsetting stuff though. It's almost too morbid and tragic to believe, especially what happened with his mistress Assia Wivell and their daughter Shura .

Has anyone read Sylvia Plath or Ted Hughes? Apparently, their daughter is also a poet. If you know of anything worth reading, please do post.

Below is poem Sylvia Plath wrote about her son shortly before her death. It's quite beautiful and makes me want to read more of her work:

Nick and the Candlestick

I am a miner. The light burns blue.
Waxy stalactites
Drip and thicken, tears

The earthen womb
Exudes from its dead boredom.
Black bat airs

Wrap me, raggy shawls,
Cold homicides.
They weld to me like plums.

Old cave of calcium
Icicles, old echoer.
Even the newts are white,

Those holy Joes.
And the fish, the fish -
Christ! they are panes of ice,

A vice of knives,
A piranha
Religion, drinking

Its first communion out of my live toes.
The candle
Gulps and recovers its small altitude,

Its yellows hearten.
O love, how did you get here?
O embryo

Remembering, even in sleep,
Your crossed position.
The blood blooms clean

In you, ruby.
The pain
You wake to is not yours.

Love, love,
I have hung our cave with roses,
With soft rugs -

The last of Victoriana.
Let the stars
Plummet to their dark address,

Let the mercuric
Atoms that cripple drip
Into the terrible well,

You are the one
Solid the spaces lean on, envious.
You are the baby in the barn.