The Vanishing Bond
In response to the article “The Vanishing Bond” Dodwell Keyt and I exchanged some interesting thoughts which I take pleasure to reproduce.
Thank you for the article. Yes, lifestyles have changed, the family bond is ailing and almost gone.
Once, the family was the centre of life, where values were passed down, laughter was shared over meals, and comfort was found in simple presence. Today, that bond feels faint. Many now describe a growing emotional distance within their own families. What has happened to society?
Modern life, for all its advancements, has pulled people away from the hearth. The digital age promised to connect us, yet it often distracts us from those sitting right beside us. Parents are busier than ever, juggling demanding work schedules, screens dominate evening hours, and children are raised more by algorithms than by elders. Extended families that once lived under one roof or nearby are now scattered across cities and continents. Sunday dinners, handwritten letters, and quiet conversations have been replaced by hurried texts and scheduled video calls.
But it’s more than technology or distance, it’s a shift in mindset. Individualism has grown stronger, and the ‘self’ is often placed above the ‘us.’ While independence has its virtues, it has sometimes come at the cost of togetherness. Many young people now grow up without strong bonds to cousins, grandparents, or even siblings. The shared rituals that held families together, faith, meals, stories, struggles, are dissolving.
This isn’t to say all is lost. In times of crisis, we still reach for one another. Family remains a deep longing in most hearts, even if its expression has changed. Perhaps what we need is not to go back in time, but to remember what family truly means: showing up, listening without judgment, being present.
Maybe the question we should ask is not “what happened to society?” but rather, what can we do now, as individuals, to bring family back to the centre of life, one act of closeness at a time.
Every year in the past, I made it a point to visit every member of my family either the day before or on Christmas day; these were apart from my frequent visits during the year. but that has change, it seems the energies surrounding our planet have gone from togetherness to myself. The visits have become, a begging, ‘Do you have time to catch up for Christmas?’ rather than ‘I’m coming over, put on the kettle.
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‘It seems more like what do I get out of visiting …
Yes, togetherness has almost faded to invisibility.
Dodwell
Dear Charles,
No, I have no objection to you sharing my email.
After reading your message, I felt a real connection to your writing and felt compelled to respond. Perhaps that closeness has to do with
age, or how we’re perceived as we grow older, I’m not entirely sure. Maybe the younger generation don’t care to mingle with us older folk as they don’t think we have little in common. Perhaps they are right.
What I do know is that I rarely see my family these days. As you mentioned in your email, it was our parents who held us all together. We used to gather at Mum and Dad’s place regularly, for Christmas, New Year, and other special occasions.
But after they passed, that closeness we once shared seemed to fade with them. I still remember my parents and always will.
I wrote a song for my mother’s 115th birthday
Dodwell
I love the song and the tune, could I have the lyrics and who is the beautiful lady in the video. Is she the singer?
Charles
The beautiful lady in the photograph is my mother, taken shortly before she married my father. I believe they exchanged photographs around the time they decided to wed. My father, always the more serious of the two, wrote simply but tenderly on his: “With love, Mervyn.”
My mother was just four days past her 22nd birthday when they married, so I imagine this photograph was taken when she was about 20 or 21.
The lyrics to the song are included in the description of the YouTube video. I wrote them as a tribute to our days in Bambalapitiya. My parents had nine children, and among the memories that stand out is the regular (and dreaded!) monthly dose of castor oil.
My mother cared for us with a gentle strength. She never forced us to do anything against our will, yet discipline was firmly part of our lives. But it was always administered with wisdom, enough to shape us, never to hurt us.
I’ve updated and lightly colourised the photograph, careful not to overdo it.
I consider myself fortunate, we have a good collection of photographs from those early days in Ceylon.
One day, I hope to revisit and rewrite my first book, My Island Paradise. I’d like to refresh many of the stories with the perspective I’ve gained after writing several others. Whether I can improve on it, I’m not entirely sure – but I’d like to try. We all have wonderful stories to tell locked inside of us.
I’m so pleased you enjoyed the song.
I know everyone says this, but I truly believe my parents were the very best.
Just a side note. I have the pearl necklace my mother wore in that photograph. Did my father give it to her? I don’t know.
It is probably the most precious items I possess.
Houses, cars mean nothing.
Dodwell
Thanks for your responses to my email. All that you have said about your mum could be attributed to my mum as well and may I add to all good mums. What I dreaded most was the monthly dose of castor oil. I can’t imagine how it was poked down my throat
Just as you mentioned about the pearl necklace I found in my mother’s Treasure Chest (made of porcupine Quills) a gold-plated pocket watch, round in shape. On the back of it was engraved her name Daisy. I am not sure of the occasion she received it. I wish I knew about it before she died. This treasured watch is now in the possession of my daughter. Mum died at the age of 100 years & 5 months.
Thanks for taking me down Memory Lane.
Charles
I often find myself wondering how wonderful it would be to have just one more conversation with my parents.
I lived with my mother for the last three or four years of her life and cared for her during that time. She wanted so little, it was quite simple to look after her. And yes, we talked, but I never asked her the things I now long to know. What was her childhood like? What was her wedding day like? How did she manage to run a household with nine children on my father’s modest Customs Department salary? I regret this enormously.
We did have the occasional conversation about her teenage years, can you imagine, my mum was once a teenager! She once told me about a time she was meeting a boy on the beach at Hikkaduwa, even as my father was on the bus coming to see her. She had a life just like ours, filled with moments, choices, memories.
I hope to write a book about my parents one day. But there’s still a lot more I need to uncover before I can do that justice. Everyone who truly knew them is gone now. Their generation has passed.
And my father, he too had a childhood, a youth, a whole life of his own. I’d give anything to spend an hour or two with him. But as surely as 1 + 1 = 2, I know I’ll never get that chance. Perhaps that could be the thread of my book, imagining I meet my parents, asking them the questions I never did, letting their stories unfold that way.
I’ve attached a Word document with the lyrics to the song Mama. We always called her “Mum”, of course, but “Mama” simply flows better in the music.
Dodwell
Mama
Dodwell Keyt 24 July 2024
[Verse 1]
In a house where warm winds blow
Nine little voices would rise and grow
Through laughter, mischief and squall
Mama stood tall, carried us all
[Chorus]
Mama, I sing this song of love that’s true
For the love in your eyes and things you do
Our clothes spotless, our faces clean
The joy, the love and kindness that’s been
[Verse 2]
The keys on your piano would dance the air
A song of your soul, a tune filled with care
From castor oil spoon to your loving call
You’re the heart of our home, love for all
[Chorus]
Mama I sing this song of love that’s true
For the love in your eyes and things you do
Our clothes spotless, our faces clean
The joy, the love and kindness that’s been
[Bridge]
Many a time you sat in sunshine light
You sit with thoughts, gentle and bright
Dreaming the past of dolls and cheer
Your youth with family, so distant, so dear
[Final Chorus]
On your birthday, we sing soft and true,
For the life you gave, and the love I knew.
Through all of my days, rise and fall,
You are the hands that held us all.
[Final Chorus]
On your birthday, we sing soft and true,
For the life you gave, and the love I knew.
Mama I sing this song of love that’s true
For the love in your eyes and things you do
