When my much loved Aunt died (she had three adult children), my Uncle asked if I’d like anything to remember her by. I asked for a distinctive but very low value ashtray - she and I had long, lovely conversations, both smoking, so it was something that we’d shared. It’s worth more to me that any money, and since none of her children smoked, no-one minded at all. What is this obsession with the monetary value of stuff? It was similar with my Dad - I have a few bits and pieces that were around our family home when I was a child, and I doubt you could sell them in a charity shop, but they mean a lot to me. Best of all is a small stuffed camel covered in badges - my Tufty club badge, the BOAC Junior Jet Club badge, my first nursing name badge, my Dad’s RAF stripes, pins from the places he visited. He’d collected them over the years and they tell the story of our life.