You can't take it with you

After the kindof day off yesterday I've been back in the swing of things today.

The morning was mostly taken up making a Caerphilly cheese, which is now in the press until tomorrow morning. 

The afternoon has been spent doing various things in the garden, as well as walking Bean and catching up with neighbours.

In 1997 my parents celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. This bowl was a gift to them from my uncle and aunt. All four of them are dead now, but each time I look at the bowl they are in my mind. I was fortunate enough to inherit it (by surprising default because none if my brothers wanted it) after Mum died. Brother #2 packed it very carefully and thoroughly and it arrived in NZ along with a few items of furniture, some pictures, and the surviving pieces of my g-g-grandparents' dinner service, a few months later. 

I treasure these mementoes more than I ever thought possible. And now I have the dilemma of who to pass them to when I die. My niece is the only one of the next generation who would be in the slightest bit interested, but a) she will inherit  bucketloads of stuff from my two remaining brothers and b) she lives a minimalist lifestyle in Sweden. 

I can leave the items to all sorts of people, but I can't pass on the emotion which they carry for me. 

I'm not losing sleep over it, but it's a dilemma that potters around my brain from time to time. I'm sure I'm not alone...