John's was a life not worth saving.
He was alone.
An empty home, an empty fridge and an empty heart was all he had to his name. He carried nothing with him but a chasm, a void that could never be filled. John Blake had a life not worth living.
With Bane and Batman's cruel dance over, the city destroyed but the life within it still limping along forever resilient and still searching for the sun; ivy creeping through the cracked concrete, looking for sun, Gotham still stood-hollow, but alive.
And with life in Gotham, came death; with reconstruction came ruination, and with prosperity came crime.
Crime did not die with Bane, and with Bruce Wayne, Batman did not die.
As he stood in the cave, hundreds of bats soaring around him he knew his life as Robin "John" Blake was unsalvageable, and truly not worth saving.
But his life as Batman was a life worth living.