Throwing stuff away

There are several plastic containers stacked in on corner of our garage back here at the trailer house.  Three of the them are full of Christmas tree decorations and Avon Christmas plates.  I don't think I will be doing any more Christmas trees, except for one that's about three feet tall that I can just plug in and forget about it.  So I need to get rid of the Christmas stuff.  However, Granddaughter Amber has asked me to let her go through them because she is sentimental about some of the Christmas stuff.  Meanwhile, there stands the stack that takes up the most room, waiting.  Next time she is here, she is going to have to make some decisions, because these are the items that would be easiest for me to toss, out of all the containers in the garage.
The other containers are full of pictures and keepsakes, both mine and my mother's.  Every once in awhile I go through them and toss some stuff, but yesterday I decided to get serious.  There are a lot of pictures that won't mean a thing to anybody, once I'm gone.  My children never knew my grandparents, for instance.  
Years ago a local publisher published and recorded, by other people, five songs I wrote.  My mom had those records and I had some.  I've kept them for years, I guess just to prove to myself that once upon a time somebody sang and recorded something I wrote.  Yesterday they went to the trash.  They're 45 RPM records.  Who has anything capable of playing them?  

This was my mother's hope chest.  It really needs to go to the ditch, it's in such deplorable condition.  The lid is warped, and one leg is missing.  At one time I was going to try and strip the varnish off it, but  it didn't strip so easily and I gave up.  It was stored in the barn for a long time.  It isn't as big as you might think, only thirty inches long and fifteen inches wide.  My mother's dad, the grandfather I never knew, made it from walnut harvested on their farm.  A former co-worker who works with antiques was going to fix it up for me, but then Cliff retired and I decided it would be silly to pay somebody to fix something up that nobody wants but me.  My sister thought maybe her artistic grandson might want it, because he could so something creative with it.  So far I haven't heard anything on that.    
I am so close to asking Cliff to haul it to the ditch, but right now I just can't.  I also don't want to beg somebody to take it, or to expect somebody to care about something just because it's eighty-five years old, built by a long-gone relative they never knew.
And then there are pre-divorce pictures showing apparently happy families that long ago split up and went their separate ways.  But their children are in the pictures, and what if those children should want them sometime, perhaps to see who they resemble?  Hmmm, decisions, decisions.  That's why I always get depressed in the middle of doing this throwaway thing and stop before I'm done.