{"id":218117,"date":"2025-10-16T20:16:11","date_gmt":"2025-10-16T20:16:11","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/218117\/"},"modified":"2025-10-16T20:16:11","modified_gmt":"2025-10-16T20:16:11","slug":"how-nicole-kidmans-sister-is-honoring-her-fathers-legacy-in-mental-health","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/218117\/","title":{"rendered":"How Nicole Kidman’s sister is honoring her father’s legacy in mental health"},"content":{"rendered":"

Normal text sizeLarger text sizeVery large text size<\/p>\n

In the dining room of his harbourside home, as his sons thunder down the hallway and an open fire crackles in the corner, Craig Marran sits at his wife Antonia\u2019s old pianola and begins working the instrument\u2019s pedals. He presses them towards the floor, one after the other, slowly and steadily. It\u2019s physical work; \u201charder than it looks\u201d, he says. The braille-like music scroll unwinds and the piano keys jump, as though a phantom pianist sits on his lap, and Ain\u2019t She Sweet fills the house.<\/p>\n

It is a retro soundtrack to the family\u2019s Saturday bustle, accompanied by a robot \u00advacuum buzzing on the floor, a Dyson firing up in another room (\u201cYou\u2019ll think I\u2019m vacuum-\u00adobsessed,\u201d says Antonia Marran, with a sheepish laugh), and the banter of four young men, aged from 12 to their 20s, whose fishing and sport plans were ruined by rain.<\/p>\n

The popularity of the pianola \u2013 a self-playing piano \u2013 peaked a century ago. They\u2019re hard to find now, unless you\u2019re close to the Marrans. \u201cI can\u2019t remember ever not having a pianola,\u201d says Antonia. Her late parents loved music but her father, Antony Kidman, better known as Tony, couldn\u2019t play the piano. At family singalongs, he\u2019d pedal instead. Antonia remembers him sweating from the effort, and her mother, Janelle, teasing him about being off-key. \u201cIt was so much fun,\u201d she recalls. \u201cEveryone would be crowded around.\u201d Their daughters have preserved the ritual. Their eldest, actor Nicole, has a few player-pianos, but it\u2019s at Antonia\u2019s house where the extended family still gather around the old instrument at Christmas.<\/p>\n

Antonia is also the keeper of a more significant family legacy: that of the work of her father, who dedicated his career to health research and treatment. Antonia became a patron of the institute he founded, The Kidman Centre, which focuses on addressing the growing crisis of adolescent and youth mental health, after her father\u2019s death in 2014. She then joined the board of The Antony Kidman Foundation, which raises money to fund the institute\u2019s programs, with her husband Craig in 2022. She is in many ways her father\u2019s daughter. Now she is making his work her own.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a role for which the experiences of Antonia\u2019s own life have prepared her well. A tight-knit family; the public heartbreak of her first marriage and the sudden death of her first husband; a mid-life love affair; the travails and joys of parenting a blended family of six children; and a late career switch to law, where she found a career fulfilment that had eluded her.<\/p>\n

\"Antonia<\/p>\n

Antonia with husband Craig Marran and sons (from left) Alexander, Hamish, Nicholas and James.Credit: Tim Bauer<\/p>\n

A supportive presence<\/p>\n

When one member of a family becomes famous, residual star dust blows over the others, both exposing and obscuring. Antony Kidman\u2019s pioneering psychology work may have made him better known if he had not been eclipsed by the fame of his eldest daughter. Instead, his story must be patched together from memories.<\/p>\n

Antony grew up in Sydney\u2019s Kirribilli, at the northern foot of the Harbour Bridge, which is now a wealthy suburb but was then working class. He was educated by the Jesuits at St Aloysius\u2019 College. Their social justice teachings, along with his deep bond with his mother, Margaret \u2013 who earned money by turning their home into an unofficial childcare centre \u2013 made him an altruist and a feminist, says Antonia. \u201cHe had that sort of drive: to be fair and to care about people,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

Antony juggled his studies with looking after his younger siblings (two sisters and a brother, who was later diagnosed with schizophrenia) and repeated his final year because he needed a scholarship to study science at university. \u201cThings didn\u2019t necessarily come that easily for Dad,\u201d says Antonia.<\/p>\n

He met the elegant, clever nursing student Janelle Glenny while at university and proposed. Her Protestant father, Arnold, did not approve of his Catholicism and offered her an overseas trip if she refused him. They wed anyway, in 1963. \u201cShe didn\u2019t have a great relationship with her father,\u201d says Antonia. \u201c[Her parents] were quite conservative. She lived her life in a way that was quite different to how she was raised as a child.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was a strong marriage. \u201cThey enjoyed each other a lot,\u201d says Antonia. \u201cAnd that didn\u2019t change. He was so loyal, and just absolutely adored her.\u201d Not long ago, a friend of her parents from their time in the US (Nicole was born while Antony was doing his biochemistry PhD in Hawaii) sent Antonia some old video footage. \u201cNicole was, like, 12 months old. Mum\u2019s a beauty. Dad\u2019s hilarious. And it\u2019s the most wonderful interaction between them.\u201d<\/p>\n

Antonia was born in 1970, while Antony was lecturing in biochemistry at Monash University in Melbourne. Two years later, he got a job at the old Gore Hill campus of the University of Technology, Sydney (UTS), and the family moved to Longueville, in northern Sydney on the banks of the Lane Cove River. The Overtons \u2013 a family of five, that shortly after became six \u2013 lived next door. The children grew into fast friends. They\u2019d duck into each other\u2019s houses through the gates in the back lane.<\/p>\n

\"A<\/p>\n

A young Antonia with her father, Antony; she remembers him as being a centrepiece of the family. \u201cHe was a nice presence for me.\u201dCredit: Courtesy of Antonia Marran<\/p>\n

Peter Overton, now a newsreader at Channel Nine (part of Nine Entertainment, owner of this masthead), remembers Antony leaning over the fence, \u201cgiving me his thoughts as I was teasing Nicole and Antonia and my sister Annette\u201d, he says. \u201cSomething like, \u2018Peter, enough\u2019s enough, don\u2019t put your surfboard in the pool.\u2019\u2006\u201d<\/p>\n

Antony might have been pianolist-in-chief on those raucous nights, but he was also a quiet source of support for the young Kidmans and Overtons, well before he began specialising in adolescent mental health. \u201cI can see myself sitting in the front lounge room of the Kidman house,\u201d says Overton, recalling a crisis of direction during his university years. \u201cI remember him [saying], \u2018It\u2019s OK to feel like this, you\u2019re not unusual.\u2019\u2006\u201d<\/p>\n

Annette Rechner, n\u00e9e Overton, who remains a close friend of the family, remembers Antony as a gentle, playful presence in a household of strong women. Janelle was practical and whip-smart. \u201cShe read The Sydney Morning Herald back to front, she knew what was going on everywhere,\u201d says Rechner, while Antony was \u201ca quiet navigator behind the scenes. He was very involved in their lives, growing up, and very supportive of the different avenues they followed. He was the perfect dad of girls.\u201d<\/p>\n

Research shift<\/p>\n

Janelle\u2019s breast cancer diagnosis in 1985 transformed the lives of the Kidman adults. Back then, survival rates were much lower, and it had travelled to her lymph nodes. \u201cIt just blew her away,\u201d Antonia says. Researchers overseas were drawing links between stress and cancer, so Janelle, a nurse educator, gave up work, and Antony\u2019s interest shifted from the body to the mind. \u201cThe first area within psychology that he worked in was breast \u00adcancer,\u201d says Rachael Murrihy, director of The Kidman Centre. \u201cThat segue came from what had happened with Janelle.\u201d<\/p>\n

Antony went back to the US to train under Albert Ellis and Aaron Beck, pioneers of rational emotive and cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT). As psychology evolved, emphasis was shifting from Freudian psychoanalysis, which explores the unconscious elements of the mind, to shorter treatments such as CBT, which \u00adfocuses on coping skills. Antony helped introduce the latter to Australia. \u201cI constantly run into \u00adpsychologists who trained under Tony,\u201d says Murrihy.<\/p>\n

In 1985, while he was researching muscular dystrophy, Antony set up the Health Psychology Unit at UTS\u2019s Gore Hill campus, near Royal North Shore Hospital. He then did something unusual for an Australian academic \u2013 it was an idea he\u2019d picked up in America \u2013 he raised money for it, too.<\/p>\n

One of the first people he approached was Dick Smith, then the owner of a chain of electronic shops. \u201cOne day, a letter arrived and it was from a Tony Kidman,\u201d Smith recalls. \u201cI thought maybe I could help. Tony was not very well known at the time; Nicole would have been about five or six. I ended up giving him our first donation, which was $10,000.\u201d Smith has supported the centre ever since.<\/p>\n

\u2018It was like, \u201cMy god, I\u2019m living again\u201d … There was a lot of relief. I liked being a single mum with four kids.\u2019<\/p>\n

In the late 1990s, the centre began research into whether psychological factors played a role in recovery from breast cancer. \u201cOur study didn\u2019t find any survival benefits,\u201d says psychologist Sarah Edelman, who worked with Antony. \u201cIt was helpful for quality of life, but it didn\u2019t prolong life.\u201d In the early 2000s, Antony shifted the unit\u2019s focus to another emerging area, adolescent mental health, as research began to show that most mental health problems \u2013 about three-quarters of them \u2013 start in the teen years. \u201cHe [Antony] was one of the first psychologists to go, \u2018Well, this is where we need to put time and focus and resources,\u2019\u2009\u201d says Murrihy.<\/p>\n

Motherhood model<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a sunny November day at Coogee, on Sydney\u2019s eastern beaches, and a mix of Kidman Centre benefactors, psychologists, and university officials have gathered at a waterfront restaurant. One of the biggest donors, Nicole Kidman, is not there, but there are plenty of others, such as representatives of the Barbara Alice, Charles Warman and Vernon foundations.<\/p>\n

Antony used to host these lunches, with Janelle by his side. But today the welcome is from Antonia, leaning on the skills of her television career as she emcees over lunch. In 2023, her daughter Lucia Hawley, a television presenter, was by her side.<\/p>\n

Many of the long-term benefactors knew Antony and have watched his youngest daughter blossom as she moved from journalism to parenting to law, grappling with personal tragedies along the way. She can speak on the centre\u2019s mission with the authority of someone who has experience with it herself, as a parent, a family lawyer, a reporter and, to a certain extent, a struggling adolescent.<\/p>\n

Antonia admits she was not a model teenager, and tested her parents. \u201c[I] probably didn\u2019t care [about school] that much,\u201d she says. \u201cI was probably into friends, and going out, and into clubs and music.\u201d Her parents resisted the common trap of taking her behaviour personally. \u201c[Mum], and my father, too, are the two people who absolutely loved me unconditionally, so I could say things, and kind of be pretty horrible at times,\u201d she says, before correcting herself. \u201cNot horrible, but when you do your teenage stuff, or if you are anxious and your natural reaction is to lash out, I could do it with them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Antonia<\/p>\n

Antonia with her parents, Janelle and Antony, and sister Nicole. Of her parents\u2019 marriage, Antonia says, \u201cThey enjoyed each other a lot. And that didn\u2019t change.\u201dCredit: Courtesy of Antonia Marran<\/p>\n

Throughout her 20s, she was restless. She started a bachelor of arts degree, but didn\u2019t finish it. She travelled. She worked as a reporter at Mode bridal magazine, and as a television reporter at the Today show, and on a short-lived Doug Mulray program. She moved to Newcastle to get on-air experience in news reporting. She liked those jobs, the buzz and excitement, but they didn\u2019t offer the intellectual fulfilment that law would later bring.<\/p>\n

All the while, her surname grabbed attention as her sister\u2019s star rose in Hollywood. Gossip columnists spotted Antonia at boutique openings, fashion shows and the Cointreau Ball, but were most excited about her relationship with the dashing young businessman Angus Hawley, a one-time Cleo bachelor of the year, a longtime friend of Merivale boss Justin Hemmes and great-grandson of Grace Bros retailer Albert Grace. They married in the chapel of her old school, Monte Sant\u2019Angelo Mercy College in North Sydney, in 1996.<\/p>\n

The couple had four children together. Antonia had always wanted a big family since experiencing the bustle of the tight-knit Overtons. \u201cI loved that noise,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

The feeling of holding her first child, Lucia (now 27), in her arms \u201cwas amazing\u201d, she says. \u201cSmelling her, and her looking up at me. I love the responsibility that comes with [motherhood]. The stuff they bring to your life, as they grow. Their conversation, their chats \u2013 just knowing that they\u2019re your people.\u201d<\/p>\n

James and Hamish followed. But the marriage was floundering. In early 2004, Hawley was admitted to a psychiatric clinic, which he later said was related to substance abuse. There was a tabloid magazine report of an affair with a school mum. Within days of the birth of their fourth child, Sybella, in early 2007, the marriage was over.<\/p>\n

Antonia is hesitant to discuss details, but recalls the wisdom of her obstetrician. \u201c[She told me,] \u2018You\u2019re actually fortunate that it ended the way it has ended, because you\u2019ve been released from any guilt connected to it.\u2019 I remember those words well.\u201d<\/p>\n

She concedes that life was easier as a single mother \u2013 she was lucky to have family support and financial independence \u2013 than in a difficult marriage. \u201cIt was like, \u2018My god, I\u2019m living again,\u2019\u2009\u201d she says. \u201c[The] whole anxiety of that was gone \u2026 there was a lot of relief. I didn\u2019t mind being \u2013 in fact, I liked being \u2013 a single mum with four kids.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018When I introduced Antonia and Craig, it was like they were in slow motion. Two moths floating to the light.\u2019<\/p>\n

Her parents were already key figures in the lives of the Hawley children \u2013 they were inside the labour suite at all but one of Antonia\u2019s six births (Janelle was trained in midwifery) \u2013 but became even more so. Her father, she says, \u201cwas good with anxiety, and managing that\u201d. She tried to emulate her mother\u2019s no-nonsense approach to parenting; the way she could be warm and generous and supportive without compromising her values or surrendering her sense of self to the demands of motherhood.<\/p>\n

She still applies those lessons. When her own children became teenagers, she remembered how Janelle always kept on top of what her daughters were doing, making no apologies for prioritising their safety. \u201cI was pretty wild at times and I got through it, because in a funny kind of way, she was just there making sure she knew everything that was going on,\u201d says Antonia. \u201cI apply her as a role model entirely.\u201d<\/p>\n

A return to study<\/p>\n

In late 2008, Antonia, then 38, and Annette Rechner flew to New York to visit Nicole. A bunch of Rechner\u2019s friends from Sydney were there, and she\u2019d arranged a night at the Soho Club. Word spread through Sydney\u2019s North Shore high school alumni, reaching one, Craig Marran, then 41, who was in New York for a single night on his way back to Singapore. A thought struck Rechner; Craig and Antonia? \u201cWhen I introduced them, it was like they were in slow motion,\u201d Rechner says. \u201cTwo moths floating to the light together. You could see immediately that there was a connection.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Antonia<\/p>\n

Antonia Marran with close family friend and childhood neighbour, Annette Rechner (nee Overton).Credit: Courtesy of Annette Rechner<\/p>\n

Antonia liked that he was fit and smart, and a feminist. She loved his blue eyes. Most importantly, though, he was \u201cjust a complete person, and very happy with his life, and not needy and anything like that. He was self-aware enough to be really keen to be part of my life with four children.\u201d<\/p>\n

In early 2010, Antonia moved to Singapore with the kids (Hawley, who had remarried, did not object). \u201cIt was a calculated risk,\u201d she says. \u201cIn hindsight it\u2019s a pretty big thing, but I just knew that it would be OK. And it was.\u201d In April 2010, they wed.<\/p>\n

Craig had no children. He went from being a bachelor to a father of four, almost overnight. \u201cI never thought I\u2019d do that,\u201d he says. \u201cBut never did I think I\u2019d meet her. It just changed everything.\u201d The children were young; Sybella was barely two. \u201cIt was very easy to gravitate to them, and they were welcoming to me as well. I didn\u2019t find it a challenge ever, really. Every family has their moments, but we had a great time.\u201d<\/p>\n

Antonia says Craig\u2019s even temper helped. \u201cHe\u2019s like Dad,\u201d she says. \u201cDad was very calm with babies. And if a baby\u2019s crying, Craig\u2019s not stressed about it. He was also ready for it.\u201d They saw eye to eye on parenting, but he left disciplinary matters to her. Antonia stresses that while Craig brought a lot to their lives, the benefit wasn\u2019t one-sided. \u201cYou\u2019ve also got to remember the value children bring to a person, because we always look at [step-children] as being a burden. Our kids were at an age that when they moved, they were generous and open and loving.\u201d<\/p>\n

Craig and Antonia have two children together, first Nicholas and then Alexander. Antonia didn\u2019t want just one child with Craig, nor did she want more than two. \u201cI couldn\u2019t have seven [in total] because I was sick of it by then,\u201d she says. \u201cAlex [was born] when I was 42 and it takes its toll on your body. From the time [I was 14 weeks pregnant], I felt as though I was about to give birth. I couldn\u2019t have done another toddler.\u201d<\/p>\n

\"Antonia<\/p>\n

Antonia in 2008 at the Logie awards. Her career has included journalism, authoring books, TV presenting and law \u2013 which she says is the \u201cend point\u201d for her.Credit: Penny Stephens<\/p>\n

Nicholas was born premature. It was then that Antonia decided to become a Marran. \u201cI made a promise to myself, if everything is OK, I\u2019ll change my name \u2013 I don\u2019t know why,\u201d she says. She now uses the name professionally and personally, but not because she felt burdened by \u201cKidman\u201d. \u201cIt\u2019s not intrusive for me,\u201d she says. \u201cThe thing that hurts is when you get things written or said about you \u2026 I\u2019m not that thick-skinned.\u201d<\/p>\n

With six children at home, and her contract with Foxtel [Antonia worked as a reporter and presenter] coming to an end, she remembered some advice her mother had given her: that women should have something of their own. So she finished her arts degree, majoring in history and writing, then wondered what to do next; perhaps another book (she\u2019d already written two on parenting). Her mind kept going back to an article she\u2019d read, in which a judge described law as a mix of history and writing. \u201cAnd I thought, \u2018That\u2019s me.\u2019\u2009\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachael Murrihy remembers Antony telling her about Antonia\u2019s decision. \u201cHe never bragged about his kids, despite the fact that they\u2019ve obviously achieved amazing things,\u201d she says. \u201cBut the one thing I heard him really excited about was when Antonia went back to law. I think he saw a bit of himself in Antonia then. He was very, very proud of that, and how well she\u2019d done.\u201d<\/p>\n

Loading<\/p>\n

It was hard studying online while parenting six children. She\u2019d sometimes call her mother, overwhelmed. As she recalls: \u201cI\u2019ve got all these kids carrying on, and six of them, and they\u2019re young, and it\u2019s hot, and they\u2019re at home. Craig used to travel a bit, too. [Mum would] say, \u2018Just do it, because you need to. You\u2019ve got to have something at the end.\u2019 She didn\u2019t keep [working] and she regretted that, because she was too smart. I\u2019d read her my essays, or tell her my marks, and she\u2019d be so excited and enthusiastic.\u201d<\/p>\n

The juggle was hard, but she loved law. Everything was fascinating, from constitutional to criminal to company, but her first job offers came from family law firms. Some \u00adpeople find family law depressing: parents in conflict, children caught in the middle, people punishing those they once loved. Antonia doesn\u2019t. \u201cIt\u2019s high stakes and emotional, yes,\u201d she says. \u201cWhen those huge, formative aspects of your life are threatened, it can play out in different ways. I like parenting, and the high-conflict matters; being that steady hand, to help people through things, and provide them with some hope.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2018The cannula was in my arm. I had my gown on. She said, \u201cDad\u2019s dying. You\u2019ve got to come quick.\u201d \u2019<\/p>\n

Craig Marran on a phone call from Antonia<\/p>\n

She now works at Mills Oakley, and her boss, Susan Warda, says Antonia is attracted to the high-conflict parenting matters others try to avoid. \u201cIt\u2019s the sort of work where she rolls up her sleeves and really tries to educate the clients,\u201d says Warda.<\/p>\n

Antonia says she doesn\u2019t let her own divorce influence her advice, but can empathise with the stress and sadness. \u201cI had those wounds, and that insight,\u201d she says, \u201cbut it\u2019s not something that I [draw on in] my practice.\u201d<\/p>\n

Antonia has become a parenting co-ordinator, a new speciality that helps parents work within court orders to resolve conflicts; about dividing the holidays, say, or the suitability of children attending a funeral. \u201cAntonia knows children,\u201d says Warda. \u201cNot only because she\u2019s a mother of six; she also did a lot of work in that space, writing books about kids. Sometimes our clients are highly intelligent people, but in a state of trauma and stress they just need that hand holding.\u201d<\/p>\n

It\u2019s part career, part vocation. \u201cI fall in love with things and become consumed by them,\u201d Antonia says. \u201cBut I think law is now the end point for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Dealing with loss<\/p>\n

Antony, Antonia. She\u2019s not sure if she was named after her father, or if the similarity is happenstance. Either way, it was prescient; she is her father\u2019s daughter.<\/p>\n

Antonia sits in her dining room beside the open fire, fiddling with the gold chains around her neck, thinking about the likenesses. She has his height, his leanness, his restless energy, which they both chose to channel into daily exercise. Antony had gym equipment in his \u00adoffice. \u201cYes, see, I would do that,\u201d Antonia says, laughing. She has his nose, his oval face, the upper lip that curls slightly when she smiles. \u201cThe colour of my hair and eyes,\u201d she says. But \u201cI look like my mum crazily now\u201d.<\/p>\n

\"\u201cIt<\/p>\n

\u201cIt was really important to Mum [that her daughters were close],\u201d says Antonia. \u201cShe was always very connected to all of us. When your parents die, you realise that there\u2019s not many people who know you from when you were born.\u201dCredit: Tim Bauer<\/p>\n

Antony was naturally academic, but struggled with school; Antonia faced the same challenge. She has terrible handwriting, as did he. Antony was often vague \u2013 he wrote lots of lists \u2013 and Antonia can relate. \u201cI sort of have to be a bit more structured and more aware of that,\u201d she says. \u201cWe were probably a little similar in terms of our competencies, and the way our minds work. He was a nice presence for me.\u201d<\/p>\n

In September 2014, Antony flew to Singapore for a visit. Craig picked him up from the airport and dropped him off at the Tanglin Club, where he often stayed. The next day, Craig was about to have a knee operation, when he got a call from Antonia. \u201cThe cannula was in my arm,\u201d he says. \u201cI had my gown on. She said, \u2018Dad\u2019s dying. You\u2019ve got to come quick.\u2019\u2006\u201d<\/p>\n

He pulled the cannula out, took the robe off and raced to the club. Paramedics were giving Antony CPR, but he had already died of a heart \u00adattack. He had been a fit, healthy 75-year-old. \u201cIt was a huge shock,\u201d says Craig.<\/p>\n

The girls flew to be with their mother: Nicole from the US and Antonia from Singapore. \u201cIf you said to me, \u2018What would you prefer: to have been there or not been there [at her father\u2019s death]?\u2019 I would always prefer to have been there,\u201d says Antonia. \u201cBecause Nicole wasn\u2019t, and I think that to be alone with thoughts and all of that stuff going on is just excruciating.\u201d<\/p>\n

Antonia says her father\u2019s death rocked her more than her mother\u2019s, whose health faded slowly until her death last year<\/a>. \u201cHe was a centrepiece of [the family] \u2026 so when he died, we were left somewhat rudderless.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was the second shock for Antonia that year. A few months earlier, the father of four of her children, Angus Hawley, had died suddenly of a heart<\/a> attack in New York.<\/p>\n

Antony\u2019s death was an enormous blow for Janelle. Antonia thinks she never recovered. \u201cThat\u2019s the downside of having a very good relationship,\u201d she says. \u201cThey were really in love. For her to lose her partner, and then for us to be away, that was really hard.\u201d<\/p>\n

Antonia\u2019s family returned to Sydney just before the pandemic, and lived half a kilometre away from Janelle. It was difficult for her daughter to watch such a vibrant woman, once so engaged with the world \u2013 art, theatre, politics (Labor Party, Women\u2019s Electoral Lobby), books (she tipped Nicole into Nine Perfect Strangers, which became a TV drama, and gave Antonia the idea for her From Here to Maternity show) \u2013 ebb away. Her death last September, while still devastating, released her from her pain.<\/p>\n

This loss brought the sisters, always tight, even closer. \u201cIt was really important to Mum [that her daughters were close],\u201d says Antonia. \u201cShe was always very connected to all of us. When your parents die, you realise that there\u2019s not many people who know you from when you were born. They become even more important. My sibling knows me really well. I know that her love for me is unconditional, and I don\u2019t know if there\u2019s anyone else in the world who has that kind of love for me now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Legacy building<\/p>\n

Antony\u2019s death was a shock for his colleagues at the UTS Health Psychology Unit, too. He was heavily involved in the centre, with no plans to retire. He had clients. He wrote books and papers. He led the fundraising. He still visited cancer patients who were struggling with the stress of their treatment. \u201cHe was very comfortable sitting with people when they were really not OK,\u201d says Murrihy. She stepped into the director\u2019s role after Antony\u2019s death.<\/p>\n

The unit was renamed The Kidman Centre in 2018. It is now located at Sydney\u2019s Prince of Wales Hospital, in a one-time ward lined with blond wood and colourful cushions to create a homey ambience for the young patients. There\u2019s a room full of Antony\u2019s books at the back and a photo at the front, with a plaque stating, \u201cHe lived to help others and we strive to continue his legacy.\u201d<\/p>\n

Janelle became involved in the centre after Antony died<\/a>, attending events and supporting Murrihy. But the legacy is now Antonia\u2019s to cultivate. She pitches to donors, attends programs \u2013 Craig recently helped run a course for educators in Alice Springs, teaching them how to spot signs of distress and what to do about it \u2013 and brings her own experience as a parent and family lawyer to the centre\u2019s work.<\/p>\n

Its particular focus is on helping schools \u00adaddress bullying \u2013 there are strong programs available, says Murrihy, but schools struggle to find and implement them \u2013 and on developing the skills of parents so they can raise \u00adrobust, resilient children.<\/p>\n

It recently released SuperParent Powers, a free online course for parents of 10- to 15-year-olds, which harnessed Antonia\u2019s parenting \u00adexperience as well as the presenting skills of Peter Overton and his wife, television personality Jessica Rowe.<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore she finished the sentence [to ask for assistance], we said we\u2019d help because that [memory of how Antony helped me] is anchored in me from 40 years ago,\u201d Overton says. \u201cI remember how it helped in terms of being able to be with your feelings; his voice in saying it\u2019s OK to feel like this.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nicole is one of the foundation\u2019s largest \u00addonors, says Murrihy, but \u201cAntonia plays the active role. She\u2019s really stepped into being the front person. The sense I get is that she\u2019s very devoted to her family, and very involved in her work. She\u2019s one of those people who gets on with it.\u201d<\/p>\n

The role is a sacred responsibility for Antonia. When Antony died, \u201cI remember looking at him, and going \u2026 \u2018I am going to honour you, in some shape or form,\u2019\u2009\u201d she recalls. \u201cI think this is my way of doing it. It keeps him alive.\u201c<\/p>\n

To read more from Good Weekend magazine, visit our page at The Sydney Morning Herald<\/a>,The Age<\/a> and Brisbane Times<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"Normal text sizeLarger text sizeVery large text size In the dining room of his harbourside home, as his…\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":218118,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[35],"tags":[49,48,84,393,394],"class_list":{"0":"post-218117","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-mental-health","8":"tag-ca","9":"tag-canada","10":"tag-health","11":"tag-mental-health","12":"tag-mentalhealth"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/218117","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=218117"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/218117\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/218118"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=218117"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=218117"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/ca\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=218117"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}