Robert Kraft’s Message of Comfort After Kevin Faulk Faces Another Heartbreaking Loss

The news spread quietly at first—a whisper among those closest to the New England Patriots family. And then, as messages, phone calls, and posts rippled outward, the story gathered weight, sorrow, and a deep ache that touched everyone who had ever worn a Patriots jersey, watched a game, or admired the legacy of its most beloved players.

Kevin Faulk—three-time Super Bowl Champion, longtime Patriots running back, and the man many still call the heartbeat of the early New England dynasty—had lost his daughter, Tanasha, in a sudden and devastating tragedy.

Her passing came years after the loss of her younger sister, a wound that never fully healed for the Faulk family. Now, with this second blow, the grief felt almost impossible to measure.

Inside Gillette Stadium, the air felt heavier. For many staff members, coaches, and former players who had watched Faulk grow from a young rookie into a respected veteran, the news struck with the intimacy of losing a family member.

No one felt that pain more deeply than Patriots owner Robert Kraft, who had known Faulk for over two decades.

Kraft was at his office when he received the call. He sat quietly at first, fingers pressed to his lips, eyes lowering toward the framed photographs lining the far wall—moments frozen in time: championship parades, locker room celebrations, and snapshots of players laughing under confetti.

Kevin Faulk appeared in many of them.

He had been more than an athlete.

More than a champion.

He had been one of the faces of the Patriots’ identity.

Kraft stood up slowly, walked to the far side of the room, and rested a hand on the glass of one photograph where Faulk—young, determined, and radiant with victory—held the Lombardi Trophy high above his head.

“That man gave everything to this organization,” Kraft whispered to himself. “And now he’s suffering more than anyone ever should.”

Within the hour, Kraft reached out to Kevin Faulk directly. When Faulk answered the phone, his voice was strained, barely more than a breath.

Kraft paused, allowing the silence to settle gently, respectfully, before he spoke.

“Kevin,” he said softly, “I want you to know this—from the bottom of my heart—you are not alone in this. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.”

Faulk didn’t speak at first. There were simply no words left in him. The pain was too raw, too overwhelming. Kraft continued, his own voice thick with emotion.

“You are a Patriot forever. You are a champion, a leader, a symbol of strength for so many people. But right now… you’re a father who has lost a piece of his heart. And I want you to know that your Patriots family is grieving with you. We are holding you up in every way we can.”

Faulk finally exhaled, broken.

“Thank you, Mr. Kraft,” he managed, his voice trembling. “She… she meant everything to me.”

Kraft closed his eyes. He imagined Kevin—once the fierce, unstoppable runner powering through defenders—now standing in a quiet room with a pain no one could outrun.

“I know she did,” Kraft replied softly. “And I know she will always be with you. You raised strong children, Kevin. Loving children. And their spirit will never leave your side.”

Over the next hours and days, messages poured in from former teammates, coaches, and fans. People remembered Kevin Faulk not just as a clutch player, a third-down specialist, or a Super Bowl hero, but as a devoted father who brought his children to practices, let them run on the sidelines after games, and proudly introduced them to everyone he knew.

Tanasha was described as radiant, kind, and full of warmth—the type of person who made others feel seen.

At a small, private gathering held to support the Faulk family, Robert Kraft took a moment to speak to the room. He didn’t approach the podium as a billionaire owner or a powerful public figure.

He spoke as a man who had shared years of victories and losses—on and off the field—with the people he loved and respected.

“When we talk about legends,” Kraft began, “we often talk about wins, championships, highlights. But Kevin Faulk taught us something more important. He taught us what it means to lead with humility, to play with heart, and to live with loyalty. He is part of the soul of this franchise. And today, our soul is grieving with him.”

He took a breath, steady but emotional.

“The loss of Tanasha is beyond heartbreaking. As a father, I cannot imagine the pain. As a friend, I feel it deeply. And as the Patriots family, we are here to lift Kevin up, stand beside him, and help carry this weight—not because we must, but because we love him.”

The room fell silent. Some cried.

Faulk himself bowed his head.

Kraft walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder—gentle, firm, supportive.

“You are not walking through this darkness alone,” he whispered. “Your daughters will always be remembered. And your family will always have a home with us.”

In that moment, the story was no longer about football, trophies, or accolades.

It was about love.

Loss.

Family.

And the unbreakable bonds forged by years of loyalty and respect.

Kevin Faulk, the Patriots legend, the champion, the warrior of New England—was now simply a father in mourning.

And Robert Kraft, along with the entire Patriots organization, stood beside him with open arms, steady hearts, and unwavering compassion.