My dad played guitar all his life and was quite good at bluegrass finger picking style and folk guitar and played Bob Dylan tunes. When my Dad was about to retire I took him shopping for a new Martin guitar as a retirement present, because he said he always wanted one. In conversation, he mentioned he had this little Martin guitar, but it was broken. When my Dad first move to California, he bought this guitar in a pawn shop in L.A., he played it for a while then the bridge pulled off. So he put it in the attic for 30 years or so.
I climbed up into the attic and pulled out the guitar. I took it to the best luthier in San Francisco and got it fixed for my Dad. He was able to play it for a couple of years before he died. Last February it needed another repair so I brought it back to SF. I visited my Dad in October, and he asked me to bring the guitar so he could play it one last time. It sounded great. When I left he told me to take the guitar, it was mine now. My Dad died two weeks later.
It's a very valuable guitar and is worth a lot of money, but the guitar will never be sold. I don't play guitar, but I am sure one of my nephews or nieces will, or their kids, and the guitar will eventually belong to one of them.
I am lucky enough to know several excellent guitarists. A guitar needs to be played, among my friends there is an open invitation to play my Dad's little guitar. I will enjoy hearing the guitar played and having the sound of it bring back memories of my Dad and his music.