Tyna was a fighter in every sense of the word. She never willingly gave up without a fight, whether it was personal or professional. She certainly never let her physical problems interfere with the fact that she loved to perform at Scarborough Faire. I remember the two of us walking fifty feet then stopping to rest because my arthritis was screaming at me. She patiently would wait for me to recover enough to go another fifty feet, and then we would stop again. Later, when I was feeling better and her condition had lessened her mobility, we followed the same routine. But that's all right, because it was our end of the faire day ritual. We would make our way from Eagle Crossing to the Pepper Lady and on up to the front gate, where we would call goodbye to the throngs as they left, exhausted and happy.

The smile rarely left her face. Sure, she got frustrated from time to time, but then her natural optimism would come bouncing back and she would move forward with determination toward whatever goal she was striving for.

She wanted to get her counseling degree, so that she could help others who were facing problems. But that's not surprising, because that is just the kind of person that Tyna was. She inspired so many people, but she never thought of herself as doing anything inspiring, she just did what she had to do.

There is a Tyna-shaped hole in a lot of lives today. It is currently filled with tears. Soon it will fill with happy memories, and she will be held in the hearts of all those she touched. They say that you aren't ever really gone as long as someone, somewhere remembers you. Tyna won't be gone for a long, long time.

And right now she is somewhere out there, dancing the dances she didn't get to do in this life.

Anon, Tyna. We shall see thee anon.