Be the Father You Always Wanted

We’ve had many people ask if there would ever be more to the story. More reflections. More encouragement. More writing that carries the heart of Raising Cole forward. That’s what this blog is about.

There is no fixed schedule here. This is not a place for polished essays or perfect answers. It is a space to share stories that matter. It is a way to continue the conversation that began with a father’s love for his son and grew into something much larger.

The words shared here will only continue if they help someone. If they remind one person to say “I love you” more often, to listen more closely, or to choose connection over comfort, then this space will have done its job.

What follows is one of the most often-quoted moments from the Raising Cole story. It started with a phone call.

After Cole’s death, the University of Texas football team rallied around the Pittman family in a way that few could have imagined. Every night at 9:30 p.m.—the time Cole used to call his dad without fail—one of his teammates would call instead. Every night, a different voice. The same message.

“I love you.”

One night, the player on the other end of the line stayed on the phone a little longer. After the words of love came a question.

He said, “Mr. Marc, I don’t have a daddy. I don’t even know who my daddy is. I don’t have a good relationship with my mama. She only calls when she wants help with my brothers and sisters. Would you teach me how to be a good daddy?”

There was no preparation for a question like that. No parenting manual. No counseling degree. Just a heart open enough to listen and a lifetime of real experience. The answer came honestly.

You do not need a daddy to be a good daddy. You do not need a role model to raise your children well. All you need to do is be the father you always wished you had. If you missed the hugs, then be generous with your own. If you never heard the words, then say them freely. If no one ever showed up for your games or sat at the dinner table or said they were proud of you, then do those things now. Do them on purpose. Do them from love.

Your past does not disqualify you from being a great parent. In fact, it may make you more equipped than you realize. The hunger to be better, the willingness to do things differently, the awareness of what you lacked growing up—these are tools. They are not wounds to hide. They are invitations to heal.

This message is not just for fathers. It is for mothers. It is for mentors. It is for anyone who has ever longed to rewrite the story of their family. You may not have had the perfect example, but you can be the beginning of something better.

The story of Raising Cole is ultimately a story about love. Not a sentimental kind of love, but a consistent, sacrificial, everyday kind of love. The kind of love that picks up the phone. That makes time. That forgives. That listens. That lets hard truths come out in a safe space without fear of shame or punishment.

That kind of love is what built the relationship between Marc and Cole. And it is what continues to move people, years later, to ask how they can build something like it too.

The answer is simple. Be the parent, the person, the presence that you always needed.

And if you need a place to start, try this: Call someone tonight. Tell them you love them. Then do it again tomorrow.