What’s so memorable or “heirloom” about a crappy or embarrassing picture of yourself taken by someone else? It’s not as if the relative lovingly painted it from scratch - it’s just a photograph.
Our family photos included one particular photo of me, a rear view holding a garden hose.
And it was extremely embarrassing, but not because of its subject matter. It was embarrassing because, for decades, my mother used it as a weapon against me. It was one of those things to emasculate and humiliate me for being a boy and for having a natural body. It was a way to tease me and implemented as a source of shame.
It was just another brick in the wall, of course, but unfortunately I didn't get proper access to burn it when I had the chance. It might still exist, for all I know. I may perhaps eventually get a golden opportunity for final satisfaction.
I learned from this the dishonest attempts at "making right" were exactly that: dishonest.
My own mother had a streak for photographing nudes (myself included) and she "promised" that these had all been destroyed. They had not. They now are.