My dad was born in 1924. He grew up an only child. He had a very event-filled life that included divorced parents, going to live with his grandmother when he was a young boy, serving in the military in WWII, being shot in the foot in a hunting accident, and raising 6 sons.
One day when he was in his 50's his dad called him.
"Frank, are you busy?"
"Not particularly. What do you need Dad?"
" I need you to go to a funeral with me this afternoon."
"Sure thing, Dad. Whose funeral is it?"
"Well, uh, that's the thing. It's your brother's."
"My brother's? I don't have a brother."
"Yes, actually you do. He's been living in an institution all his life because he was crazy and he died. Will you go with me to his funeral?"
True story. I didn't tell Mike about this until after we were married.