Nicole Kidman’s life has been full of success and personal sacrifice. As a teenager, she cared for her mother, but she missed some important moments in her family’s life. This shows a different side of her story.
While she is known for her amazing performances and is one of Hollywood’s top actresses, Nicole Kidman recently experienced a deep personal loss.
On September 7, 2024, Nicole Kidman won the Best Actress award at the 81st Venice Film Festival for her role in the film “Babygirl.” However, the excitement of this big win was overshadowed by tragic news that made her leave Venice just as the ceremony was starting.
Nicole Kidman missed a major award ceremony after experiencing a devastating loss.
She had traveled to Venice for the awards, but the sudden death of her beloved mother, Janelle Anne Kidman, meant she couldn’t stay to accept the award in person. Instead, the film’s director, Halina Reijn, took the stage to deliver Nicole’s remarks, reading from a statement she had prepared.
Nicole Kidman shared her grief with the audience, saying, “Today, I arrived in Venice to find out shortly after that my brave and beautiful mother, Janelle Anne Kidman, had just passed. I’m in shock and need to be with my family, but this award is for her.” Her heartfelt words touched many, revealing the deep impact her mother had on her life.
In her emotional statement, Nicole Kidman spoke about the deep impact her mother had on her life, saying, “She shaped me, she guided me, and she made me. I am beyond grateful that I get to say her name to all of you through Halina. The collision of life and art is heartbreaking. My heart is broken.” Her words captured the bittersweet nature of experiencing a professional triumph amid personal tragedy.
Janelle Kidman, 84, was a nursing instructor and a devoted member of the Women’s Electoral Lobby, an Australian feminist group. Her dedication to her work and her strong influence on Nicole’s values and worldview were evident throughout the actress’s life.
Nicole Kidman’s bond with her mother grew even stronger through years of personal caregiving. At just 17, Nicole took a break from her rising acting career to care for Janelle during a crucial period in her life.
The Golden Globe winner even took a massage course to help with her mother’s rehabilitation, showing just how dedicated she was to her family.
Growing up, Nicole Kidman saw her mother face serious health challenges, which deeply affected her. As she grew older, Nicole became more involved in raising awareness for women’s health issues, using her own experiences and pain to support advocacy efforts.
Nicole Kidman once spoke about how watching her mother battle breast cancer as a teenager had a profound impact on her. She said, “I have seen my mother go through it. I think that has had an effect on me. I was in my late teens, and that experience has left a mark on me in a way I will never forget,” during a breast cancer awareness campaign.
Janelle’s health journey had a significant impact on the entire family, leading Nicole to maintain a constant sense of vigilance into her adulthood. Nicole explained, “With my mother, it’s every year. Once it has affected your life, you stay vigilant. You have to keep getting checked, and eventually, your whole family is affected by it.”
Nicole’s deep connection with her mother was clear in all aspects of her life. Their bond went beyond shared experiences to include the sacrifices Nicole made, many of which often went unnoticed. This profound relationship is why Nicole missed celebrating her mother’s birthday and Mother’s Day.
Despite her busy schedule, the 57-year-old star always made her family a priority, especially during tough times. In 2020, the global pandemic created an unprecedented separation, making Nicole and many others yearn for the comfort and closeness of family.
As the world went into lockdown, the “Moulin Rouge” star couldn’t visit her mother in Australia, which was especially difficult during important family moments like Mother’s Day and Janelle’s 80th birthday.
Nicole expressed her deep longing by saying, “I would love to be able to have a cup of tea with mum, sit on the balcony, talk about life, and have her tell me what I should be doing.”
The distance was painful for Nicole, as she missed these precious moments with her mother. Reflecting on the lockdown challenges, she said, “It was gut-wrenching. At least we had FaceTime and technology, which was a saving grace. But not having that physical connection has been really hard for our family.”
Even during these challenging times, the “Far and Away” star found comfort in small connections through technology. She frequently FaceTimed her mother, who, although initially hesitant about video calls, eventually embraced them.
Nicole fondly remembered helping her mom find the best angles for video calls and laughed about Janelle’s resistance to Zoom. “She’s like, ‘No, no Zoom,’” Nicole joked, reflecting on the light-hearted moments that helped them stay close despite the distance.
The bond between Nicole and her mother was deeply rooted in both family ties and shared passions. Janelle played a crucial role in shaping Nicole’s ambitions, always encouraging her and her sister, Antonia Kidman, to follow their own paths. Nicole shared, “She’s given me the fire to pursue the career I have because I’ve always wanted to please her.”
Janelle’s influence went beyond words, motivating Nicole to excel and ensuring that her daughters had opportunities she herself did not. Nicole noted, “Mum didn’t necessarily get the career she wanted, but she was determined that her daughters would have equal opportunities. That’s given me my life. She and my dad gave me my life.”
When Janelle’s health declined in early 2022, Nicole immediately returned to Australia to be with her. Despite the ongoing pandemic, Nicole made sure her mother was surrounded by love and the people who mattered most, including her grandchildren.
Reflecting on this period, the “Aquaman” star shared a special memory: “We were able to take her into the gallery after hours and show her the Matisse exhibit. For a mother who raised me with a love for the arts, it was very, very soothing and comforting.”
Nicole emphasized how her mother’s passion for fashion greatly influenced her own style, saying, “And my mother is still—she’s so involved in what I wear.” Janelle’s keen eye for detail and style remained a guiding force, with her continuing to help with Nicole’s wardrobe choices almost until the end.
Throughout her life, Janelle was more than just a mother to Nicole; she was a source of inspiration, a confidante, and a constant presence who played a crucial role in shaping the person Nicole became.
Despite the physical distance and the challenges it brought, Nicole Kidman’s bond with her mother never wavered. Their relationship, marked by moments of shared laughter and quiet support, stands as a testament to the enduring power of family.
My parents forced me to pay for my own dinner while they covered the bill for everyone else – Their justification was absurd
Jennifer’s parents caught her off guard during a family dinner by unexpectedly asking her to cover the cost of her meal, while they paid for everyone else. Jennifer’s resentment brews as the sting of unfairness deepens, setting the stage for a confrontation the family won’t forget.
The night I got the text from Mom about a “special family dinner,” I nearly choked on my microwaved ramen. It had been ages since we’d all gotten together, and even longer since it felt like my parents actually wanted me there.
love my family, but being the middle child is like being the bologna in a sandwich where everyone’s fighting over the bread.
I stared at my phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to make up some lame excuse, but then I thought about Tina and Cameron, my perfect older sister and my can-do-no-wrong little brother.
They’d be there, basking in Mom and Dad’s approval, like always. And I’d remain the perpetual afterthought if I didn’t show up.
“Count me in,” I typed, hitting send before I could change my mind.
Mom replied instantly. “Great! Le Petit Château, 7 p.m. next Friday. Don’t be late!”
Le Petit Château. Fancy. I whistled low, already mentally tallying up my savings. This wasn’t going to be cheap, but hey, maybe it was a sign things were changing. Maybe they actually wanted to spend time with me, Jennifer the Forgettable.
That Friday, I arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early, feeling nervous. Just as I was about to go in, Mom and Dad showed up. Mom was all smiles, while Dad wore his usual concerned expression.
Inside, we found a cozy table, and soon after, Tina and Robert joined us. Tina looked stunning, as always, making me feel like a potato by comparison. Finally, Cameron arrived, late as usual, and complaining about traffic.
Now we were all settled, Mom wasted no time in making me feel insignificant.
“So, Jennifer,” Mom said, peering at me over her menu, “how’s work going? Still at that little marketing firm?”
I nodded, trying not to bristle at the ‘little’ part. “Yeah, it’s good. We just landed a pretty big client, actually. I’m heading up the campaign.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Mom said, her attention already drifting back to Tina, who was regaling Dad with tales of her son’s latest soccer game.
That stung, but the atmosphere improved while we ate. The food was great, and soon we were talking and laughing like we used to when I was a kid.
I was enjoying the meal and the rare feeling of being part of the family, but then the check came.
Dad reached for it and started going over the bill, like he always did. But then he frowned, looking directly at me.
“Jennifer,” he said, his voice oddly formal, “you’ll be covering your portion tonight.”
I blinked, sure I’d heard him wrong. “What?”
“You’re an adult now,” he continued, as if explaining something to a child. “It’s time you start paying your own way.”
“But…” I started, my voice small, “I thought this was a family dinner. You’re paying for everyone else.”
Dad’s frown deepened. “Your sister and brother have families to support. You’re single, so it’s only fair.”
Fair. The word echoed in my head, mocking me. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. Without a word, I pulled out my credit card and handed it to the waiter, praying it wouldn’t get declined.
The rest of the night was a blur. As I drove home, the hurt began to curdle into something else. Something harder, angrier.
The next morning, I woke up with a headache and a heart full of resentment. I spent the day alternating between moping on the couch and pacing my apartment like a caged animal. By evening, something inside me had shifted.
I wasn’t just going to let this go. Not this time.
An idea started to form. Crazy at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I was going to give them a taste of their own medicine.
I invited Mom and Dad over for dinner and then spent days perfecting the menu. I cleaned my apartment until it sparkled, bought fancy candles, and even splurged on a tablecloth that didn’t come from the dollar store.
The night of the dinner arrived, and I was eerily calm. I had a plan, and I was sticking to it.
The doorbell rang at 7 p.m. sharp. I took a deep breath and opened the door with a smile plastered on my face.
“Mom, Dad! Come in!”
Dad handed me a bottle of wine. “Place looks nice, Jennifer.”
“Thanks,” I said, ushering them to the living room. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can I get you something to drink?”
As I poured their wine, Mom settled onto the couch, her eyes roaming over my bookshelf. “So, how have you been, dear? We haven’t heard much from you since… well, since our last dinner.”
I forced a light laugh. “Oh, you know how it is. Work’s been crazy busy.”
We made small talk for a while, the conversation stilted and full of long pauses. Finally, the oven timer beeped, saving us all.
“Dinner’s ready!” I announced, perhaps a bit too cheerfully.
I’d outdone myself with the meal: herb-crusted salmon, roasted vegetables, and a quinoa salad that had taken forever to get right. Mom and Dad made appropriate noises of appreciation as they ate.
“This is delicious, Jennifer,” Mom said, sounding genuinely impressed. “I didn’t know you could cook like this.”
I shrugged, tamping down the flare of resentment at her surprise. “I’ve picked up a few things over the years.”
The dinner progressed smoothly, almost pleasantly. I almost forgot why I’d invited them over in the first place. Then Dad started with one of his lectures about financial responsibility, and I knew it was time.
As I cleared the plates and brought out a fancy tiramisu for dessert, I steeled myself. This was it.
“So,” I said casually, setting down the dessert plates, “I hope you enjoyed the meal.”
They both nodded, smiling. “It was wonderful, dear,” Mom said.
I smiled back, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Great. That’ll be $47.50 each, please.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Mom’s fork clattered against her plate, and Dad’s face went through a rapid series of emotions – confusion, disbelief, and then anger.
“I’m sorry, what?” he sputtered.
I kept my voice calm, channeling Dad’s tone from that night at the restaurant. “Well, you’re both adults. It’s time you started paying your own way.”
Mom’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “But… but this is your home. You invited us.”
“Yes,” I said, my voice hardening slightly. “Just like you invited me to Le Petit Château. And then made me pay for my meal while covering everyone else’s.”
Understanding dawned on their faces, quickly followed by shame.
“Jennifer,” Dad started, his voice gruff. “That’s not… we didn’t mean…”
“Didn’t mean what?” I interrupted, years of pent-up frustration finally boiling over.
“Didn’t mean to make me feel like I’m worth less than Tina or Cameron? Didn’t mean to constantly overlook me? Or did you just not mean to get called out on it?”
Mom reached out, trying to take my hand, but I pulled away. “Sweetie, we had no idea you felt this way.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Of course you didn’t. Do you have any idea what it’s like to always be the afterthought in your own family?”
Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“We love you just as much as your siblings, Jennifer.”
“Do you?” I challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’m just as successful as Tina, just as hardworking as Cameron. But somehow, I’m always the one who’s expected to ‘act like an adult’ while they get a free pass.”
The room fell silent again, but this time it was heavy with unspoken words and long-ignored feelings.
Finally, Dad cleared his throat. “We… we owe you an apology, Jennifer. A big one.”
Mom nodded, tears in her eyes. “We never meant to make you feel less valued. You’re our daughter, and we love you so much. We’ve just… we’ve done a terrible job of showing it.”
I felt my own eyes welling up, but I blinked back the tears. “I don’t want your apologies. I want you to do better. To be better. To see me.”
Dad stood up, his movements stiff. For a moment, I thought he was going to leave.
Instead, he walked around the table and hugged me. It was awkward and a little too tight, but it was more genuine than any interaction we’d had in years.
“We see you, Jennifer,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “And we’re so, so proud of you. We’ve been blind and stupid, and we’ve taken you for granted. But that ends now.”
Mom joined the hug, and for a minute, we just stood there, a tangle of arms and unshed tears and long-overdue honesty.
When we finally broke apart, Mom wiped her eyes and gave a watery chuckle. “So, about that bill…”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Tell you what. This one’s on the house. But next time we go out? We’re splitting the check evenly. All of us.”
Dad nodded solemnly. “Deal.”
As they left that night, things weren’t magically fixed. Years of feeling overlooked and undervalued don’t disappear in one conversation. But it was a start. A crack in the wall I’d built around myself, letting in a glimmer of hope.
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