Two years ago I stumbled upon an article about a woman named, Joyce Carol Vincent, who was very popular among her friends. She was an aspiring singer in London and hung out with many elite people.  One day a woman called the police about a foul smell coming from her apartment. She complained about the smell to her land lord, but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. A body was then discovered by bailiffs who came to repossess an apartment for non-payment of rent. There they noticed a decomposing body. The police said the body had been deceased for 3 years.

This body belonged to the woman who was once so popular and surrounded herself with many people. No one noticed her gone and no family reported her missing. When I saw photos of this woman she was beautiful with long, dark curly hair, caramel skin and a smile that was as bright as the moon. Just by looking at the photo the LPD showed the public you can tell that the room would light up every time she walked in it. I wondered to myself how a woman so beautiful, talented and with soo many friends could be forgotten, especially having the kind of job she did. Wasn’t there an agent that called her multiple times to ask why she wasn’t at work or friends who called to ask her to go out to a party? Reading more into the article I found that there is a movie on her life called, Dream of a Life, but it was only being shown in the UK and to it show it anywhere else one had get a certain amount of signatures from people to host a private viewing in their region.

 

Like Joyce, as many people as she surrounded herself with, I don’t let people in my personal life as I should. I can be distant. I occasionally hang out with friends if it’s just for a party or some sort of Holiday gathering, but I never open myself up privately to let people know what’s going on in my head. I was always that pretty girl who sat in the corner and watched everyone have their fun, mingled and laugh with some here and there and when I got tired or bored I would leave and most of the time not say goodbye. Rarely would people later call up and ask where I had gone. I never did this on purpose to see how people would react. It’s just how I depart a situation I no longer want to be a part of. Is this why Joyce was so easily forgotten? Like Joyce, I have a great group of friends, every time I get called to hang out I rarely say no, I volunteer for the same charity a couple of times every month and speak to whomever I can and make my presence known. Was this not enough for people to remember Joyce? Was she some stuck up bitch that people refused to deal with, hung around her because of her status and just smiled to her face every time she was around? There are things about her personal life that not even the media could grasp. It took them months just to find a photo of what she looked like before her skeleton laying on the couch, surrounded by wrapped Christmas gifts, was found.

 

This is not meant to be a depressing topic. It’s a question I believe that everyone should ask themselves along with “How will my friends and family remember me?” This may also catch some people’s fear of dying alone. Though this may be a rare case have you ever asked yourself, “If I were to disappear would anyone miss me?”

 

You can read more of Joyce’s story here:

 

http://www.theguardian.com/film/2011/oct/09/joyce-vincent-death-mystery-documentary

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