This is my go at answering this age old philosophical question.
The very premise of the question is flawed as it incorrectly assumes that there’s an answer. The idea of an answer would make sense if I believed that my life was covertly dictated by some ethereal being. I don’t.
I believe that I’m the product of energy differentials that caused things to happen. In this context, I don’t believe that I have any more meaning than the fact that this grain of sand is in one place as opposed to a single millimeter to it’s left. The interactions that led to its genesis, evolution, and placement have no more thought behind them (that is to say, none) than those series of interactions that led to the primordial soup, millions of years of evolution, and culminated into my being.
So meaning wasn’t given to me. Not that I should have been surprised, given that this is a construct of our mind to begin with. But if the answer isn’t handed down, and I know that it’s relevant only to my little human brain, then this becomes a question only suitably addressed by myself.
In other words, the meaning of my life is whatever I choose to make it. How liberating is that?