My Dad converted to the cult when I was 5 and dragged the rest of us along. At that time "armageddon" was supposed to be immanent within a few months. My parents had just lost my younger sister to meningitis and I know that this was the "hook" that kept my poor Dad going for over 30 years--that he was going to be able to see his little girl again soon. He, unlike my Mom, never truly accepted her death or went through the standard grieving process. My Mom confided to me that even though she did beleive in the ressurection (I think she's lying to me about that though) it didn't really offer her any comfort for the loss of her child. She had to get over it and move on as people must do when losing a child.
It was heartbreaking watching my Dad and caring for him during his final illness. He was SO frightened and amazed that he was dying. To comfort him in those last hours I told him not to be frightened--he was going to soon see his daughter again and I think it helped but inwardly I was raging at that stupid cult and all of his wasted years.
I was his hospice caregiver and it was mind-boggling how the JWs stared right past me during their visits. The morning he died a bunch of them trailed in to see my Mom and not a one offered a word of comfort to me or even acknowledged my presense. I think that is when it was truly hammered home to me that this is a sick and twisted religion.