In Memory

William Hanner

William Hanner

Albuquerque, NM:  December 6, 2013

William Hanner passed away unexpectedly December 6, 2013, while attending a conference in Albuquerque, NM. Bill's friend Stacia Shiffler posted the following message on Bill's Facebook page.

"I was with Bill a few hours before he died. I wrote this Friday night as a way to work with my feelings. Others I talked to have said he was very excited to be at the conference in Albuquerque, and we were all happy to see him. We have two more days at the conference and we are all holding him in our prayers and memories. He was a gifted hypnotherapist."

"Today, my friend Bill died. He was probably about ten years younger than my dad, living in the Mississippi Bible Belt, and had the most deep and beautiful voice. He spoke very, very slowly and deliberately, and with great articulation. So when he said, "Drifting and floating, deeper, deeper down, deeper into that pleasant and tranquil state of relaxation called hypnosis," that's exactly where you went. If you let yourself follow the sound of his deep gravely radio-announcer voice, you dropped quickly and easily into a hypnotic trance that was very calming and healing.

Bill was a retired airline pilot who once owned a Dunkin' Donuts in Anchorage, Alaska. He was also a very metaphysical and philosophical man who had already read all the books about past life regression, books with titles I'd never heard of before, like "Many Lives, Many Masters." I remember thinking that he was no regular airline pilot. There was a spiritual depth to him I probably would've have never seen or imagined if I hadn't met him in the alternative setting of the Hypnotherapy Academy. He carried a quiet air of mystery and simplicity about him; he was one of those people who, although he was well liked by all, often sat alone and seemed very comfortable in solitude and silence. In one of his status updates a few weeks ago, he wrote, "Man emerged from a handful of earth and water. Why should a woman not be made of dew, earthly vapors, and rays of light, of the condensed residues of rainbow? Where does the possible lie? And where the impossible?"

See what I mean?

Bill and I met in hypnotherapy school and we ended up choosing each other as hypnosis practice partners many times throughout that summer. The more we worked together, the safer and more comfortable we felt with each other. We practiced our hypnosis inductions and wrote therapeutic suggestions for each other about sleeping better; he did a session for me about turning off the internet earlier in the evening, I did a session for him about drinking less iced tea before bed. We were partners for "needle day;" as his words guided me into a state of hypnotic anesthesia, the doctor stuck a needle through the top of my hand and I felt no pain. And together, we spent many hours meticulously writing a healing script for him. He chose me to deliver the script, and we did it twice. We even made a special recording for him on our lunch break. A deep love came through me during those sessions and right onto that MP3 recording. My supervisor was in the room that day, along with a few other people, and at the end, we were almost all in tears because it was such a beautiful experience; the healing energy was almost palpable in the room and Bill told me afterward that he could feel himself beginning to change during that session. Tonight I was going to ask him about his health.

When we last saw each other a year and a half ago, during our sharing circle on the final day of class, his voice broke as he told me how much I meant to him, thanking me for that session, in front of the whole class. Throughout the following year, he said he was still listening to that hypnosis CD regularly and following his action steps for getting healthier. I had told him how my dad had gone through triple bypass surgery and how he reminded me of my dad. I kept bugging him to watch the movie about green juicing and to stop eating so much red meat. He went out and rented the movie and he told me he was losing weight and getting more fit. He even bought a juicer and was making green juices. He told me I had inspired him. We had a special bond.

Since then, we've kept in touch by internet from time to time, and last week he asked if he could treat me to dinner this Friday, since he was visiting from out of town. I already had Santa Fe commitments each night of the conference, so I said, "Let me see what I can figure out," and we didn't talk again until yesterday. In his message he asked, "Are you still busy, busy, busy?" and I didn't realize until this evening that I hadn't responded to that question. This morning, I didn't see him when I arrived, so I saved him a seat right next to me, eager to see him in person. I wish I could say I remember giving him a big bear hug when we greeted each other. I wish I could say I remember telling him I had cleared my schedule for tonight so we could have dinner together and tell stories. But I don't think I did. He got there late, so he just sat down quietly as the presenter was beginning. We smiled at each other and I remember thinking, "We'll catch up later in the day, I'm glad we'll have time tonight." Then we were divided into workshop groups, not by choice, but by numbers the presenter gave us, and we weren't in the same group.

When lunchtime came around, I searched for him but didn't see him. I went into the lounge and ate with others, but not before I sent him a message saying, "Where are you? Let's have lunch. I'm in the restaurant." I got no answer, and no verification that the message had been received or read. When the conference reconvened an hour and a half later for the afternoon session, he wasn't in his seat next to me, but his stuff was still there.

Something felt weird, it just didn't feel right. But I didn't want to miss the afternoon presentation so I pushed it out of my mind. I thought, "Stop micromanaging or worrying about others, let people live their own lives, he's probably napping or watching Law and Order in his hotel room." But there it was again, that nagging feeling that something was wrong. So I got up in the middle of the presentation and asked one of the program assistants if they'd seen him. She said no and I sat back down again. Then, as I sat there, I realized I simply had to figure this out, even if it meant missing the keynote speaker I paid $365 to hear, even if it meant butting into someone else's privacy, even if it meant being pushy.

So I went to the front desk and asked where his room was. The receptionist said she couldn't give me that information but she dialed his room number and handed me the phone. There was no answer. So, I said, "Can you please check on him?" She looked at me like I was crazy. And I felt crazy, like I was being that irritating-worst-case-scenario-assuming-the-negative-worry-wart kind of person I don't want to be. But I said it anyway, "Yes, please check on him. I feel concerned."

About 10 minutes later, I knew something was wrong when the program assistant came and asked me to hand her Bill's cloth briefcase that was resting next to my feet on the floor. I quickly followed her out into the hall and they told me the hotel staff had found him in his room, not breathing. They think he had a heart attack. The worst part is I cannot say I felt surprised. I had sensed that something was not right. I only wish I had checked on him earlier.

A candle was lit and his photo was placed on a makeshift altar. The school director announced the sad news to the group and collectively we did a beautiful visualization and blessing for his spirit that had left the body. When the day was over, I ran to my car and sped toward the freeway. Alone, I immediately started sobbing. And then, just before I reached the highway, I turned the car around and drove back to the hotel. I knew his spirit had already left his body, but it felt wrong to be driving away, knowing part of him was still upstairs, alone, in that room and I hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye. So, I sat there and cried in the lobby as I watched his luggage being brought out of the elevator like it was just a mere suitcase and a backpack going to the Lost & Found, not the precious and unique belongings of a person who had touched them only hours ago - a living person who was now dead.

I thought about how I knew about his death even before his family did; how we had to look through my phone to find his Facebook page, and search for other people with his last name, to find his relatives. I thought about how I wished I'd told him "yes" right away when he'd asked me to join him for dinner.Then I got in my car and I drove back to Santa Fe. I sobbed, talking to Bill the whole way home. All I could say was, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I didn't check on you earlier. I'm sorry I waited. I'm sorry I waited. I'm sorry..." So, I'm trying to forgive myself about today and all the events that may have preceded it.

Whatever you believe about that transition between life and death, what I learned today was this: Trust yourself. Don't wait. Speak up. Ask. Turn to the person next to you and tell them how you feel. Hug them. Tell them you like their voice, their style, their heart. Tell them you love them in whatever form of love you feel. There are so many kinds of love and support, stop being so afraid of it all. The only thing to be afraid of is regret.

I only hope Bill knows I felt and appreciated his love and support. And I loved him too. Thank you, Bill. Blessings on your journey." -Stacia Shiffler


Photo of Bill Hanner and Stacia Shiffler



 
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12/09/13 11:11 AM #1    

Robert Merrill

So sorry to hear of Bill's sudden passing. He was a really good guy during my days at Sutherland. I enjoyed the pictures he shared on this site of the "old" school! Brings back many fond memories.....


12/09/13 04:23 PM #2    

Sally Webber (Centner)

So sad to hear this news.  I did not know Bill well but certainly remember him at school.  At this point in my life I feel a special bond with my classmates at Pittsford.  I send my sympathy to all his family.

Sally Webber Centner


12/09/13 06:45 PM #3    

Patty Thompson (Clarke-Piorek)

This news just shook me so badly.  What a wonderful guy to know.  My "window" dates back to high school only and knowing that great person and personality then.  What a ham!  It is very evident that he made so many more close friends through the years and achieved many great accomplishments in his lifetime.  That said, Bill's passing is very, very difficult to hear about.  God speed Bill!  Love you, Patty      


12/10/13 09:47 AM #4    

Lisa Zahniser

I knew Bill in school, but we didn't become close until I returned from Paris my junior year of college. He was a real sweetheart and we kept in touch for a long time, then I "lost him" like so many others. Typical Bill, when he saw my name on the list of "found" classmates, he immediately contacted me. We exchanged personal emails and promised to stay in touch....of course that was a year ago. Another reminder to stop and smell the roses, and keep the ones you love close. My heart goes out to his family.

 

Lisa Zahniser


01/11/14 04:19 PM #5    

Donald Gerlach

     This news was difficult for me to handle so it has taken until now to write. Bill and I were best friends in HS and after. He was always into flying as he passed his flying test on his 16th Birthday. He could fly before he could drive. Aviation was his true passion. Eventually he was a professional pilot and unfortunately had some medical issues (including a heart attack) that grounded him as a pilot. He became a trainer for pilots and wroge curriculum for training manuals. Unfortunately, that went away as the airline industry has shrunk since 911. I visited him several times in the recent years as he lived in Memphis and I have a step-son and family near there. The last time I saw him was in Tunica where he said he really didn't like to gamble.

      He was never a religious person however, he was always a spiritual person. We had numerous discussions about faith and beliefs, however he always kept to his. I pray that he has found real peace as he now is a truly spiritual being.

     He had numerous ups and downs in his career and this new hypnosis program was perfect for him as he was always about helping others and healing. He some health issues that I know he worked throught by dilligently doing all that was required for those with this condition.  As far as I knew, he was back in decent health so this notice was slightly shocking.

     I pray that we all find total peace today and always. May the new year be wonderful for all of us that remain from the class of 1972.


01/25/14 11:40 AM #6    

Bob Ward

POSTED FOR A CHILDHOOD FRIEND OF BILL'S:

A neighborhood friend of mine died the other day. Billy Hanner, an amazing guy who once lived three houses up the street from where I grew up, passed away last Friday. More recently, he was a resident of the State of Mississippi. A retired pilot, he had gained a reputation as a hypnotherapist after his retirement from aviation. From the age of 7-12, I supposed I worshipped Billy Hanner. He was eight years older than I, and when I was in those formative years, my dream was to be a teen ager. Billy was a good role model. The first time I was ever allowed by my parents to walk up the street alone, it was to the Hanner home, where Billy allowed me to play some of my 45-records on his stereo. Billy played his singles and albums too. When there was a go-cart (non-motorized) race in my neighborhood, Billy pushed me all the way around Courtenay Circle (we lost when our wheel fell off). Billy and his friends would decorate his basement as a haunted house, and invite me and my siblings over, and some of the other neighborhood kids, and scare the hell out of us around Halloween (we loved it!). When I was just a little older, Billy took Charlie Davis and I to our first R-rated film of our lives ("Rollerball"-1975). After he graduated from Pittsford-Sutherland H.S. in 1972, Billy eventually moved to Alaska, and managed a movie theater in Fairbanks (later, owning a Dunkin' Donuts in Anchorage). I didn't see Billy much as an adult, but he was never far from my consciousness. Billy's parent's, the late Chuck and Dorothy Hanner, were in many ways closer to my immediate family than were many of my relatives. I miss all of them, very much. Billy, you may now be gone, but you will never be forgotten, as long as I am on this earth. R.I.P. - Christopher J. Wilmont


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