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Gallifrey was a burnt out cinder; nothing left but dust and debris. Space rubble.
His fault.
His choice.
He could have chosen the cowardly way out and refused to push the button. Made someone else take the responsibility. Played the outcast to the end. But that wasn't who he was or who he would ever be.
He could feel regeneration coming. Hearts stopped pumping. Lungs stopped filling. All systems shut down. Too bad he couldn't stop feeling.
Gallifrey wasn't the only thing burnt out. He carried the ashes in his heart; barren and bleak.
Until the day he met Rose.