He discovers he has no friends. It's after she dies, and he realizes he talks to no one else, has devoted his life to nothing else but her. In hindsight, it was a poor investment to make. His hours stretch out in lonely infinities, interrupted only by his mother with her feral grin.
He's truly a pariah now, an outcast, refused both exile and death. It is a numbing experience, to be so alone, although in truth it is a self-inflicted wound.
Strongclaw wishes the world was a little less full of discoveries.