My Grandma, my Mother's mother, had a large jar, about quart-sized, up on the top shelf of a buffet-type cabinet in her kitchen. It was filled with silver dollars. On a grandkid's birthday, she gave the child one of the big coins. The last time I saw that jar, it was still nearly full, up on it's perch. When she passed away, my Mother's brother informed us of the fact; she had been hospitalized a short time. When we all met, at her house, three brothers and my Mother, the jar was gone. We knew her brother Frank had had access to the house, my Uncle Ed lived in Sylmar, CA, Uncle John was pretty far away, too, and my Mother surely didn't swipe the dollars, but no mention was made of it, and Uncle Frank hopefully died, gloating over his Mother's stolen treasure. Frank
Your last sentence is so true. My hubby had recorded a long message on this cell phone for missed calls, and it spoke of the both us. A couple of days after he died, I called his phone so I could hear his voice, but the message was gone. I took his phone to our provider, AT&T, and they told me that his phone, (which was a good six years old), seemed to have died the same day he did. I was heart broken.
One day soon after I turned 21, I must have woke up with a special kind of stupid. I decided that since I was the big and mighty 21 now, the things of the little girl days had to go. New girl, new life, bring on the future. I ceremoniously walked things to my apartment's trash area by the armload. Most of it wouldn't (and never has) given me a minute of heartache. But... .... I threw out my journals... journals and diaries that I'd kept for more than 10 years. Not the type of thing I can just re-buy on eBay. I have forever been sad about that.
When I was about 5 or 6, I lost my shiny new cap pistol up in the hay loft of my Grandfather's barn. I looked and looked for it for days, but couldn't find it. The barn was torn down over 60 years ago, and its location is now a parking lot. Doubt if I will ever find it now.