My life has purpose.

Purpose gets imagined as an assignment handed down — a single thing you were for, discoverable if you look hard enough.

In practice it appears to be distributed, and mostly invisible to the person who has it. You are load-bearing in someone's life in a way they have never told you. The colleague who stayed because you were decent to them in their first month has probably never mentioned it.

Nobody receives an inventory of their own effects. The absence of the inventory is not the absence of the effects.