Claude Griscelli

Claude Griscelli left this world on May 7, 2026, and honestly, it still doesn't feel right to say that out loud. He was the kind of man who made every room a little warmer just by being in it — the soft-spoken doctor who could explain the most complex immunology and still make you feel like you were just having coffee with a friend. Those of us lucky enough to know him remember the way he'd light up talking about a new discovery, his hands already moving through the air as if he could literally show you how the body learned to defend itself. He led Inserm not with authority but with this quiet, steady belief that science belonged to everyone, and the people who worked alongside him never forgot that. He was a devoted husband, a proud father, and the kind of grandfather who'd sit on the kitchen floor with his grandkids and build elaborate stories out of whatever was lying around — napkins, spoons, the dog's tail. His family was his first research project, and he never got tired of the results. His daughter once told me that even on the busiest days, Claude always came home with a story, and dinner was sacred. He believed, truly believed, that presence mattered more than productivity, and I think he proved that every single evening. What I'll miss most is his laugh — unhurried, a little surprised, like joy kept catching him off guard even after all these years. He gardened in the early mornings, read everything he could get his hands on, and had this habit of writing tiny notes to people he cared about, the kind you'd find tucked into a book or slipped into a coat pocket. Those notes said things like "You matter more than you know" and "Don't skip lunch today." Simple things. But simple things from Claude were never really simple. He spent his life helping others understand how the body fights back against illness. The least we can do is fight back against forgetting him — his warmth, his curiosity, his stubborn tenderness. Claude, we love you. We'll carry your notes with us.