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Yoda had attended more funerals than he could count. It was simply the burden of one as long-lived as he, to watch all those he loved pass into the Force before him. Something that he made peace with again and again, all throughout that long life.
The war had challenged that, as it brought death more quickly and unnaturally than the flow of time and circumstances normally would.
The end of the war was far worse. Even Yoda, long accustomed to loss, to letting go of grief and embracing his friends and family member’s return to the Force…even he struggled with the sheer scale of it all, to lose so much all at once.
But to give into despair was to let the Sith’s victory become complete. And so Yoda endured, and lived in solitude. But never truly alone, because the Force touched all living things, and all that had once lived remained in it. Even this remote planet was not so isolated; nothing could be, in the Force.
Eventually, the weight of age came upon him. For once, one of his family would outlive him.
Yoda let himself pass into the Force, and it felt like a homecoming.