Bogota

Among the gifts I received from my Dad, Les Gibson, were a love of reading and history, of poetry and persistence; of arcane knowledge and trivial facts — the latter of which made the game show, Jeopardy must-see TV.

We watched it together just about every night for the past 7 weeks as he battled pancreatic cancer from his retirement community in Estero, Fla. In typical fashion, he knew more of the answers than anyone in the room most nights, including one night a few weeks back when he answered a question about the northernmost city in the Andes Mountain range.

“Bogota,” in a voice faintly audible from his easy chair, a destination that most nights took every bit of his strength at which to arrive from the slumber of those whose hospice status had vacillated to and from “actively dying.”

Bogota, and the explorer John Ledyard, and the abolishment of Prussia in 1948 — all Final Jeopardy questions of the past few weeks that provided him an ounce of pleasure in a world of hurt.

This afternoon, he slipped away at age 85 after living with pancreatic cancer for the better part of six months. He leaves behind a loving family and a lifetime of friends who were, and are, like family.

There will be more space and time for words later, but for now it’s enough to know his struggle and pain has ended, and that he’s reunited with our mom, Betty. And he knew Bogota.

Originally appeared on Leslie McCarthy Stories Facebook page June 5, 2020.