My late DP and I met at 42, and we had so many coincidences it's bizarre. Both only children, we had the same family dynamic - children of divorce with a mother living alone and a father and step-mother each. We both grew up in households living with our maternal grandmother's
We both had similar waistcoats, red and black brocade. We both had nigh on identical Victorian clocks passed down through the family. We had the same Alchemy Gothic pendant, and the same miniature antique pen knife.
He had a brain bleed, and on my 53rd birthday, I was told he'd had a second, and "wasn't coming back". On his 53rd birthday, one month later, I had to pick his burial plot. He was a body piercer, his birthday was Valentine's day, and so the irony of picking a hole in the ground to lay him to rest was pretty strong. I then had to bury him on my late mother's birthday.
On various family and friend's birthday I have been informed of other people's deaths. I've rather gone off birthdays.
My mother and I were both widowed at exactly the same age, my step-father dying of cancer that took too long to diagnose. My late DPs cancer was only discovered at post mortem - it had metastised to his brain.
There are loads more. I think of it all as a rather macabre cosmic joke.