As she collected her award from Tony Abbott on the lawns in front of Parliament House, we as a nation watched and applauded this remarkable woman. But at the same time, as we have always done when she has appeared in public, we drew a short, pained breath at the profound tragedy of it all, that the beginning point was the death of her 11-year-old son, Luke.

Three weeks short of a year ago, Ms Batty and Luke were making a life in the small semi-rural community of Tyabb, a single mother and son. The facts of what happened next are   tragic: Greg Anderson, her former partner and Luke's father, murdered his son in the nets after cricket practice.

The shocking and public act of family violence jolted us, how the everyday and seemingly safe setting of kids practising cricket on a weekday afternoon became so brutalised. Still, after the initial coverage, there is every chance the story of Luke Batty and the wider, overarching concerns about domestic violence may have receded.

Rosie Batty ensured that didn't happen. Following Luke's death, the expected and accepted thing would have been a retreat into private grief. But the next day, she emerged from her home to speak to reporters. "My name is Rosie," she said. "I am the mother of Luke."

In a calm, low voice, she told the story of the increasingly erratic behaviour of Luke's father. But it was not a story of anger. "No one loved Luke more than Greg, his father. No one loved Luke more than me. We both loved him," she said. "I was to tell everybody that family violence happens to everybody, no matter how nice your house is, no matter how intelligent you are. It can happen to anyone, and everyone."

Her demeanour, her strength, was remarkable. As the past 11 months have demonstrated, these traits are deeply ingrained. From the tragedy of Luke's death, she has emerged as a powerful, articulate campaigner on the often-hidden crisis of domestic violence, speaking with the loud and clear authenticity of one so painfully touched.

Her name brings an instant recognition, and her strong voice has moved the likes of retiring Victoria Police chief commissioner Ken Lay, who has talked about the "Rosie Batty factor" as a catalyst for change.  She has championed the cause, calling for an overhaul of the court system and criticising systemic failures and a lack of leadership.

Certainly, the Rosie Batty factor has been at work in the new  Victorian Labor government fulfilling its election promise to call a royal commission into family violence.

That such change could result from such tragedy is a positive. But Rosie Batty also deals with the profound pain of the loss of her son.

"There have been moments of acute reality at the loss of Luke and unreality of finding myself doing things I would never have done otherwise," she says. "It has that sense of being unreal."

In part, the power of the Rosie Batty factor has been the empathy from every parent placing themselves in her position, trying to imagine what it could be like – that short, pained breath we take.

"I could never imagine not having Luke," she says. "When you have a child, you just can't  imagine them not being there, or seeing them suffer or something happening to them. As a parent, you're just built to protect them, from pain, from hurt. You're overly sensitive when it comes to things that happen in the playground, at school. So ultimately, there is that acknowledgement as a parent that you can't imagine having to cope with what I'm having to cope with."

Before Luke's death, Ms Batty had seen others experience tragedy, and marvelled at their personal strength.

"I've always been amazed at the courage and strength that people do have. Ultimately, you have no choice but to get up each day and face the world, and put one step forward. What is the alternative?"

The support and respect she has received from the wider community has been enormously helpful, she feels. "And certainly, it could have been a different experience," she says. "I could have said wrong things, and I could have all gone very ugly for me in many ways. I just feel incredibly fortunate that it has unfolded in such a positive and constructive way."

As for awards and acknowledgements, she has received plenty – including some of which she was unaware. It has made her appreciate their value.  "You actually don't realise how much an award means to you until you're actually acknowledged," she says.

But beyond the accolades is the momentum for real change generated by the Rosie Batty factor. "What I'm looking forward to is really starting to see the change in legislation, strategy, programs and things like that," Rosie Batty says, "the work starting to unfold."