My name is Brian, I am a 35-year-old single father fighting a battle I never imagined I’d have to face. I’m also an Executive Chef at Wine Ranch Grill & Cellar in Old Town Murrieta a job I love, a job I’ve worked years to earn, a job that helps me provide for my two young children who mean everything to me. I’m not writing this as a man who is giving up. I’m writing this as a father who is running out of time.

Doctors told me something that shattered my world: I have Bicuspid Aortic Valve (BAV) and the damage to my heart is now too severe to ignore. They told me I need open‑heart surgery at the beginning of the year 2026. The moment I heard those words, it felt like the air was ripped from my lungs. I didn’t think of myself. I thought of my children…Their laughter. Their tiny hands. Their trust. Their need for me not someday, but every single day.

In that moment, one thought pierced me so deeply I thought I would collapse right there in the hospital hallway: “If I don’t make it… my children lose everything.”

When I got home, my kids ran to me the way they always do — so full of love, believing their dad is invincible. I hugged them so tight because inside, I felt anything but strong. Later that night, after they fell asleep, I stood in the darkness of their bedroom. I watched them breathe. I listened to those soft, innocent breaths… And I broke. I pressed my hand over my heart — the heart that’s failing me — and whispered to myself: “Please don’t stop. Not yet. Not until they’re grown.” A few days later, my youngest climbed onto my lap and rested their head on my chest — right where my heart struggles beat after beat. They looked up at me with worried eyes and asked: “Daddy… are you going to be here tomorrow?” I couldn’t speak.

I just nodded and held them closer, swallowing a fear so enormous it felt like it could crush me.

The doctors told me I’ll be out of work for at least three months maybe more. Three months where I won’t be able to work. Three months of recovery. Three months of bills piling up like a countdown I can’t outrun and there is no one else. No other parent. No backup income. A father trying desperately to stay alive long enough to raise his children. Every night, after the house goes quiet, I sit at the edge of my bed with my hand pressed to my chest, praying my heart will last long enough for surgery. Every morning, I wake up grateful I have one more day to be their dad. But fear follows me everywhere:

When I’m making breakfast…

When I’m folding their clothes…

When I’m tying their shoes…

When I’m too tired to stand but force myself to, because they deserve a father who shows up even when his heart is failing.

Donations will keep our world from collapsing during the months I’ll be recovering. This isn’t just a fundraiser. This is a lifeline. This is the difference between stability and disaster for two children who have already been through more than enough.

If you can help even a little you aren’t just donating. You are giving my children the one thing they are praying for every night:

More time with their father.

More mornings.

More birthdays.

More hugs.

More years.

Thank you for reading my story.

Thank you for caring.

And thank you from the deepest, most fragile part of my heart for helping me fight to stay alive for the two people I love more than anything in this world.

With every beat my heart has left,

Brian Liermann