Whether life or its meaning come first becomes irrelevant. Love is meaning. Life without love is meaningless.
Whether life was an accident to which we ascribe meaning, or whether meaning was a prerequisite to life, our lives become meaningful only if we experience love. And life itself must be a prerequisite for love.
It becomes trivial whether we claim to have knowledge or not to have knowledge. It becomes vital that we are capable of living and being loved. And life becomes not so much a search for meaning as a quest for the experience of meaning. As love is meaning, life becomes meaningful only if, on whatever level, it is shared in love.
