After the rosary we always prayed for the grace of a happy death. If you want to pray for anything that the very act of praying for it might make happen that is a candidate. The Ivan Ilyich household must have neglected this petition for what the novella depicts is a deeply unhappy, protracted, painful and unresigned death. Why be resigned, why not cry out ‘de profundis clamavi’, why me? The bad news is that there never will be a rescue. You are manacled to the tracks and the train has set out. Ivan when he reviews his glory days as a lawyer, the obiter dicta of a fine forensic mind grinding out judgements, the respect of his peers, the difficult decisions about curtains and sofas, these important events in the life of a man who has attained to a respected position in society are nugatory, trivial and not a fit preparation for the final examination. Eschatology is one of those subjects that one must mug up daily.
Tolstoy first did the death then he did the dying which inverts the normal procedure allowing him to demonstrate how the passing of a personage can cause difficulty for a bridge evening. As soon as the wife has sounded a colleague about whether there might be additions to pension entitlements the mourner can slip away after the service in the room where Ivan is laid out.
The dying as related by Tolstoy and God ought to induce recollection in the religious or, in that charmingly deflecting locution, mortality salience, in the secular humanist. Terrifying or bracing, death is there and is waiting.