If your mom is still around, you're so lucky.

When M. J. Rose said, “If your mom is still around, you’re so lucky,” her words carried the quiet weight of remembrance and the ache of absence. Simple though they may seem, they are woven with a truth as ancient as humanity itself — that the presence of a mother is among life’s greatest blessings, yet one too often unrecognized until it is gone. Her statement is not just sentiment; it is a whisper to the living, urging them to look upon their mothers not with routine affection, but with reverence, for time is fleeting, and love, once unspoken, becomes the echo of regret.

In the wisdom of the ancients, the mother was seen as the first temple, the vessel through which all life enters the world. She was the hearth of the home, the keeper of memory, the quiet architect of her children’s strength. The Greek philosophers wrote of the mother’s love as divine — Agape, the unconditional, the selfless — and the Hebrew scriptures called her teaching “light.” To have one’s mother still walking the earth is to have, even in the harshest of seasons, a lantern that glows with familiarity, forgiveness, and the remembrance of innocence. This is the sacred truth beneath M. J. Rose’s words: that to still have that guiding light is a fortune beyond measure.

The origin of the quote reflects the author’s own deep reflection on love and loss. M. J. Rose, a writer known for exploring the mysteries of emotion and memory, once spoke of her own mother’s influence as both profound and enduring. Her words remind us that loss often clarifies what love obscures — that we seldom understand the magnitude of our blessings while we still possess them. When she says, “You’re so lucky,” she is not speaking lightly; she is speaking as one who has felt the silence where a mother’s voice once was. Her message is a call to awareness — to cherish now what one day will be memory.

Consider the story of Alexander the Great, who conquered half the known world but remained forever bound by devotion to his mother, Olympias. History tells that even in his glory, he wrote to her constantly, seeking her counsel and her blessing. And when she died, no empire could fill the void her absence left behind. His strength, it is said, began in her belief in him. So it is for all of us: no matter how high we climb or how far we wander, our first source of courage and identity often comes from a mother’s love. To have her still near — to still hear her laughter or her advice — is to be tethered to the roots of one’s being.

There is a deep melancholy beneath this truth. For as life moves swiftly, many forget to honor their mothers, caught in the noise of daily ambition. We assume there will be more time — another call, another visit, another day. But when that day no longer comes, it is then we realize that the greatest wealth was not in what we achieved, but in who was waiting for us when we came home. M. J. Rose’s quote, then, is both blessing and warning: cherish the living while you can, for love cannot be spoken to the departed, only remembered.

The lesson here is simple, yet eternal: gratitude must be practiced, not postponed. If your mother still lives, do not let the days slip away in silence. Speak to her; listen to her stories, even the ones you’ve heard a hundred times. Thank her not just for what she did, but for who she is — the heart that made your existence possible. And if your mother has passed, then honor her by living in a way that reflects her light — through kindness, patience, or the pursuit of what she dreamed for you. Every act of love you perform keeps her alive in the unseen realms of the soul.

So, my listener, remember these words as a sacred reminder: if your mother is still among the living, count yourself among the fortunate. Go to her, call her, embrace her — for no treasure, no victory, no honor compares to the gift of still being able to say, “I love you,” and to hear her voice in return. And if she dwells now beyond this world, then close your eyes, and speak your love to the winds, for the bond between mother and child is not severed by death, but made eternal by the memory of the heart.

Thus, let this teaching be carved upon the soul: to have a mother still is to hold a piece of heaven upon the earth. Cherish it. Guard it. And when the time comes to lose it, may you carry her strength within you — for those who have loved such a woman are never truly without her.