Almost two-and-a-half years since her tragic death, Maddie Riewoldt is still shaping and enriching lives.

The difference now, of course, is that the beneficiaries aren’t simply her loved ones, but complete strangers.

Maddie – the younger sister of St Kilda champion Nick Riewoldt and a cousin of Richmond star Jack Riewoldt – was just 26 when in February 2015 she lost a five-year battle with a relatively rare bone marrow failure syndrome called aplastic anaemia.

Amid the heartache endured by the Riewoldt family, there have been some significant, heartwarming developments.

Maddie spent the last seven months of her life in intensive care, ravaged by a debilitating illness that prevents bone marrow from producing enough blood cells and, therefore, reduces the body’s immunity to infection.

Maddie’s dying wish was for others not to suffer as she had. She wanted to make a difference. And she is – perhaps in more ways than she could have imagined.

Within four months of Maddie’s passing, her family established Maddie Riewoldt’s Vision – a charity that ultimately aims to find a cure; and in the meantime hopes to improve treatments for young bone marrow transplant recipients, while supporting them and their families.

Maddie’s Vision has already raised $1.6 million – $1 million of which has been channelled into crucial projects including the Australian Aplastic Anaemia Registry and a three-year $300,000 research fellowship for Dr Wayne Crismani at the St Vincent’s Institute of Medical Research in Melbourne.

Last year Maddie’s Vision – in collaboration with the Snowdome Foundation – won the Victorian charity section at the Telstra Business Awards.

Maddie’s legacy also continues to have a positive impact on her family, as Nick and Jack Riewoldt revealed when they visited the AFL Record in the lead-up to the annual Maddie’s Match fundraiser between their two clubs.

In their shared grief, the Riewoldt clan has become more tight-knit than ever.

Previously, distance proved a barrier, given Nick was just nine when he moved with his family (father Joe, mother Fiona, brother Alex and Maddie) from the clan’s native Tasmania to the Gold Coast. 

Nine years later, Nick was drafted by St Kilda, while down in Hobart a then 12-year-old Jack Riewoldt dreamed of joining him in the AFL.

These days, Nick and his young family (wife Catherine and sons James, two, and six-month-old Will) live within “a couple of kilometres” of his parents, his brother and his cousin Jack in Melbourne’s bayside area.

In their darkest hours, they turned to each other for support. As they healed together, they also shared more quality time.

Nick: “A family tragedy can tear a family apart or it can bring a family closer together – and I’m glad to say it’s brought us closer. We’ve made a conscious effort to come together as a family when we have the opportunity.”

Jack: “We live close together, but with the terrible circumstances we’ve been through together, we’ve got a much stronger bond now.”

Nick: “The loss of Maddie has had a profound impact on all of us as individuals and as a family – in an overwhelmingly good way. It impacts on your approach to life – the way you raise your family, the way you treat each other, the way you talk to each other. Everything goes to another level.”

For Jack Riewoldt, it has been the catalyst for personal and professional development.

Jack: “Hands down, it’s the biggest life-changing experience of my life. It doesn’t alter my day-to-day (life), but the overall shift has been significant and really powerful. 

“I changed a lot of things about myself after Maddie passed away. I didn’t make a big wish to myself to do it; it just happened naturally.

“My relationship with my brothers changed and became stronger, and so did my relationship with Nick and Alex.”

It’s no coincidence, either, that Jack – who was elevated to the Tigers’ vice-captaincy this season – has also matured as a footballer.

Now 28 – the same age Maddie would have been – Jack is less inclined to let his mood be dictated by what happens on the field, as he’s acutely aware there are many worse things in life than losing or playing poorly.

Jack: “I reckon footy reflects how your personal life is going, and (Maddie’s death) completely changed the way I viewed what we do. I feel it changed the player I was. I became more rounded. I felt like I grew up overnight. I sort of had to.

“I mean, as a 23-year-old, I could never see myself talking to the media about something so emotive without getting really angry about it. But I’ve grown up and learned a lot about myself. It definitely changed me.”

Nick says it’s hard to know how much losing Maddie has changed him because his life has changed so much in other ways.

Nick: “The best thing and the worst thing that can happen to anyone happened in the space of three months: my first child (James) was born in the December (2014) and then Maddie passed away in the February. And I’ve had another child since.

“What I thought I knew about life two-and-a-half years ago is completely different to what it is now.

“In that time, I’ve lost a sister and gained two sons. My brother Alex has also just become the father of little George.

“Having kids has added a new layer of emotion to it for me, particularly regarding my parents, because you come to realise how much you ride all the bumps and bruises with your kids, as they did with Maddie.

“So all the grief and pain, you see it through your parents’ eyes. That magnifies it. That’s pretty tough.”

The new generation of Riewoldt boys has been a godsend for the extended family.

Jack: “The kids have opened our eyes to a lot of things – that’s been pretty cool. It makes you celebrate the little wins, which you need after a traumatic family event. What we’ve been through makes us appreciate those things even more.”

Nick: “We don’t necessarily appreciate it more than other families, but certainly more than we did before.”

They also treasure their memories of Maddie and are regularly reminded of her.

Nick: “It’s with me every day. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about some aspect of it, or I’ll just shake my head and think, ‘I can’t believe Maddie’s not here.’

“The times it really rocks me tend to come out of the blue – it might be a song on the radio or a random photo.

“I’ve been reminded of her before every game I’ve played this year because the Maddie’s Vision ad has been in the AFL Record each week.

“It’s really hard to process, and I don’t think it’ll ever become easier to process. When you try to rationalise it, it’s almost like there’s a bit of a block, like your mind tries to protect you. It’s a crazy feeling.”

Jack: “I don’t know what it is, but every time I walk through the door at ‘Roo’s’ (Nick’s) house I think about Maddie. 

“And when my fiancée (Carly Ziegler) drives past streetlights and they go out, or weird stuff happens with lights, she’s convinced that ‘that’s Maddie.’”

Nick: “I’ve heard a lot of people say, ‘time heals all wounds.’ But the more time that passes, the longer it’s been since we’ve seen Maddie.

“That’s why it’s important to our family that we do what we can to fulfil Maddie’s wish – her vision – in some way that will benefit other people who are facing the same situation.

“Not many people get the chance to do something positive with their grief, and we’re really grateful to be afforded that opportunity through various platforms, Maddie’s Match being one of them.

“The first Maddie’s Match two years ago was overwhelming because it was still so fresh and raw, and the way the public embraced it was incredible.

“We’re so appreciative of everyone’s support for a cause that’s so dear to our hearts.” 

Elliot's story

If little Elliot Vanderland runs on to Etihad Stadium with St Kilda veteran Nick Riewoldt before Maddie’s Match, as is hoped, it will be some effort.

Maddie Riewoldt’s Vision exists for youngsters like four-year-old Elliot, who is fighting aplastic anaemia – the same bone marrow failure syndrome that claimed Maddie’s life.

The first sign something was wrong came last December when unexplained bruising appeared on Elliot’s legs.

With his platelet levels found to be dangerously low, the then three-year-old was soon diagnosed with aplastic anaemia and relied on regular transfusions to survive.

In April, he received a life-saving bone marrow transplant, which has so far been a success. But the challenges have kept coming for the Leongatha family.

Complicating matters, Elliot and his brother Ashton, nine, have also been diagnosed with dyskeratosis congenita – a rare, progressive, congenital, bone marrow failure syndrome.

Their mother Elissa said life had become “a day-to-day rollercoaster” since Elliot’s diagnosis.

“We are completely drained, but gain miraculous strength on the days he is well,” she said. “We are focused on Elliot’s recovery, but we also have a background worry about Ashton’s physical and emotional wellbeing. It’s been really hard on him.”

Nick Riewoldt has been touched by the Vanderlands’ predicament.

“It breaks your heart,” he said.

“I saw what it did to Maddie, but at least she was an adult and knew what was going on and she could articulate how she was feeling.

“But to see a four-year-old go through the same process is hard to watch.

“Elliot is an incredibly bright and brave little boy, but he can’t really grasp what’s going on with his body, or why he has to be in isolation, or why he can’t see his brother, or what it does to his parents. That’s why we’ve got to beat it.”

Ian Vanderland, Elliot’s father, said: “We connected to Maddie’s Vision because they are the only organisation really raising serious awareness. This condition needs new treatment to give families more confidence about the future.”

They learned of the existence of Maddie’s Vision when his wife Googled ‘aplastic anaemia’.

Nick: “Maddie would be so proud of that, because when she was diagnosed there was no support – nothing. Now there is support, and hope.”