Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to Lucas, not me.
He is alone now, within the confines of the black armour, mechanical breath echoing in a cold, bare room. He has always been alone, it seems.
They told him he had a special destiny, and he felt his unique status lifting him up, where nobody else could reach him. Sometimes there was a touch, a smile, from fellow Jedi or from the hidden love of his life, and for a few precious moments, he was not alone.
Blinded by that supposed destiny, he had somehow lost his way. He had faltered, and now no touch would ease his solitude again.