Over two decades ago, in the middle of 2002, I was just a kid in school with a headband and some liquid paper, scrawling the letters “F to tha K” without any idea of what it might become.

Then, at around 8:30 AM on Saturday, December 14, 2002, my father shook me awake with terrible news. My friend Drew was on the line, his voice heavy with dread: Michael had died in a car accident. I could hardly believe it—Michael was the kind of gentleman who lived every moment with openness and kindness. Just weeks before, we’d been at Luke’s house, drained three bottles of champagne between us and laughed until we could barely stand.

The day of Michael’s funeral was brilliantly clear. I arrived at the church to find the undertakers fastening the second screw on his coffin lid. When they asked if I’d already said goodbye, I shook my head. They paused, loosened the screws, and lifted the lid so I could speak to him one last time. There he lay in his hoodie—hands crossed, eyes closed—serene like a porcelain figure. I told him how much he meant to me, thanked the undertakers, and stepped back.

At the graveside, after the final prayers and the shower of flowers, his coffin began its slow descent into the earth. Most people drifted away, but Drew, Luke, Guy and I stayed. As Michael slipped out of sight, I placed my “F to tha K” headband on top of his coffin. In that moment, I dedicated everything that those letters would stand for: honoring Michael’s spirit, celebrating life in all its fragility, and vowing to live each day to the fullest.

Now, in December 2025, F to tha K celebrates its 23rd anniversary. What started as a crude doodle on a headband has grown into a movement—a daily reminder that life is precious and every moment counts.

Welcome to Liberation.