Hermann Huppen

With heavy hearts, we say goodbye to our beloved Hermann. To us, he wasn’t just the legendary creator of *Jeremiah*, the man who drew vast, sun-baked post-apocalyptic landscapes with such terrifying beauty. He was first and foremost our husband, our father, our *Papa*. I’ll always remember him not at his drawing board, but in his worn corduroy chair by the window, a cigarette in hand, deeply absorbed in a history book or planning his next hunting trip. He found his truest peace not in the spotlight, but in the quiet of his garden, nurturing his roses with the same patient precision he brought to his inked lines, or in the deep, silent woods, where his love for nature was as profound as his love for storytelling. His mind was a fascinating landscape of contrasts. While his comics explored the grittiest corners of humanity, his personal humor was dry and witty, often delivered with a twinkle in his eye that could defuse any tension. He was a man of few, chosen words, but when he spoke about his family, his voice would soften. He was incredibly proud of his wife, Idès, his rock, and his sons, Yves and François, who brought him immense joy. We saw his pride swell when he’d talk about the *Jeremiah* TV series, not for the fame, but because it meant his stories reached a new generation. His studio was a sanctuary of ordered chaos, and the scratch of his Rapidograph pen was the soundtrack of our childhood—a sound that meant he was present, focused, and creating his unique world. The impact he had on others is a testament to the quiet, stubborn man we knew. He never chased trends; he followed his own compass. That integrity is what made *Jeremiah* resonate—it was honest, bleak yet hopeful, and fiercely human.