If you are a student of history, you know that violence has been with humanity since the day Cain slew Abel. Despite its tragic commonality, death always shocks us more when we can relate to the person lost. That shock echoes in our hearts and minds, pushing us to ask the same questions: how did this happen, why did it happen and how can we prevent it from happening again?

It is natural to tune out the deaths we cannot relate to, after all, it would be unbearably heavy to think about death constantly. But make no mistake: there are people who must think about it every day. First responders and medical professionals see it firsthand. Religious leaders and mental health professionals walk others through it. Families who have lost loved ones live with it. And our servicemen and women are often haunted by it.

In my years as a prosecutor, I saw the worst of what human beings can do to one another. Not every case ended in death, but many victims carry scars, emotional and physical, that never fully heal. Perhaps because I am a father, the hardest cases for me were always the ones where children were the victims of violence.

We often view “political” violence as categorically worse than everyday violence, but the truth is that no motive makes violence more or less condemnable. Every act of violence tears someone away from our shared human family. The murder of Charlie Kirk is just as condemnable as the murders of Brian Thompson, Yaron Laschinsky, Sarah Lynn Milgrim, Melissa and Mark Hortman, Harper Moyski, and Fletcher Merkel, and just as condemnable as the violence that occurs right here in Chautauqua County.

So what frustrates violence? What is the answer to this enduring problem? Love.

Real love means willing the good of the other person. It means caring for the stranger in the grocery store who’s having a bad day, or showing patience toward the driver in front of us who is moving too slowly. It means putting others first, even if it costs us something. It means listening instead of always speaking. It means respecting another’s opinion, even political ones, by asking questions in good faith, taking the time to test our own beliefs, and sharing our views with the recognition that those who disagree with us are still our brothers and sisters in the human family.

It means not feeling threatened by disagreement. Not seeking to destroy someone who is unconvinced by our arguments. And, ultimately, it means embracing forgiveness. As Charlie Kirk’s wife said of the young man accused of killing her husband: “That man, that young man… I forgive him.”

Assemblyman Andrew Molitor is a Westfield resident who represents the 150th Assembly District, encompassing all of Chautauqua County. For more information on Molitor, follow him on Facebook.