Ivan Ilyich's death occupies the last chapter and has two faces that do not coincide. Seen from outside, there are three days of screaming and an agony that still lasts hours; seen from within, it is a struggle in a black bag that ends in an instant. The novella tells both, one after the other.
From outside, the screaming lasts three days and is heard through two doors; at the wake, the widow had already told Pyotr Ivanovich that her husband screamed without stopping during the last three days, lucid to the end. From within, he struggles in the black bag, pushed by an invisible force, and the torment lies in not being able to pass through, because what prevents him is the recognition that his life was good. The confession and communion of chapter XI had brought relief and hope, but his wife's question, whether he is not better, undoes them, and the hatred returns with the pain.
At the end of the third day, an hour before death, the son enters the room quietly. The father's arm, which struggles, falls onto the boy's head, and the boy holds it, presses it to his lips, and weeps. In that same instant Ivan Ilyich falls into the hole and sees something shine; he opens his eyes, looks at his son, and feels pity for him and for his wife. He wants to say forgive, says let pass, and, without the strength to correct himself, makes a gesture with his hand, knowing that whoever needs to understand will understand. With his gaze he points out the son to his wife.
After that, the pain no longer matters (let it stay), and the habitual fear of death is no longer there: in place of death there was light. He says aloud: so that's it! What joy! For those present the agony lasts two more hours; someone says it is over, and he repeats in his soul: death is over. As to what the light means, readings differ; what matters here is that the book shows the same ending from both sides and leaves it to the reader to decide which of the two accounts is true.