With that hope, that the Jedi had survived, Ahsoka was able to focus more fully on Anakin again, to listen to all he was saying as well as watch him. It was clear that, of all the story, and despite what he was revealing, he felt a great deal about this stretch of his history. Her Master had a son, and a daughter. And a wife. A family.
Before she could marvel more at this concept, the weight of what he was saying sunk in. His action had crippled the suit, the suit that was keeping him alive. Without it...
"You died." It wasn't a question. This was, so very strangely, an explanation that fit him being here, only a few years older, whole, save for the arm that he had lost before she met him, when that many years and that many tragedies had passed by. Of everything that had shocked her, that didn't nearly as much, though perhaps she had simply been shocked so much that there was nothing left. She had no idea how the dead could walk again, but then, she had no idea how she had come to be on this planet that believed them to all be stories.
That was why the not-Dark-not-Light had been so difficult to categorize, because it was nothing she had ever encountered, a combination of a man in between both sides, as far as her senses told her, in a body far younger than his mind and Force presence.
And then it hit her, what his last act and his death had meant. She bowed her head, allowing the pieces to fit together. He was the Chosen One, the one foretold to bring balance to the Force. To be truly in balance, so the Jedi believed, the Sith could not exist. Darth Vader could not exist.
She looked up a moment later, meeting his eyes. "You brought balance to the Force by destroying the Emperor – and you. Because of your son." An act of love, not arms-length compassion.