It is odd what happens, psychologically at least, to peoples' personal effects after they pass. Immediately shouldering the burden of their memory in a way that would seem inconceivable when they were mere possessions. Even simple things, without the majesty and symbolism of the photographs in your post.

In my day job as a second-hand-bookseller I often see huge boxes of books come in as donations - all old, brown, and leather bound - which it quickly becomes clear, without even having to ask, are remnants from the life of one recently deceased. It's incredible, and often immensely sad, how much of an insight you can get into someone you've never met from their book collection. Sometimes even the odd photograph slips in, and you have to remind yourself you never really knew them...

Thanks for this post, Yahia :)