I'm going to shoot for a Young Frankenstein situation. Twenty years after I'm gone I want them to disinter my body. My bony hands will still be clutching a shoebox full of cards resting on my chest. Whichever descendant is brave (or disrespectful) enough to wrestle the shoebox from clutches, gets the cards.
Of course that box will only contain my 1981 Donruss and Fleer commons. The less greedy descendants will then share the good stuff.
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