I shook hands with Arvo Pärt on Friday.

Let me try to put it in a context for you.

Arvo Pärt is an extraordinary composer. A genius. By statistics that is being collected by classical music event database, Bachtrack, A. P. is the world's most performed living composer for the sixth year in a row. I don't know how it's possible. And I don't know how you could beat that. The world's concert halls are full of his music. No, the world is full of his music. It was not long ago when I was watching a random Hollywood movie on a bus and just in the middle of the movie I hear one of his pieces on the soundtrack. He has received a number of honorary degrees from universities around the world, just last year he received one from Oxford University. He's absolutely incredible.

For Estonians, he is a national treasure.

Every year around the time of his birthday there's a music festival in Tallinn where his pieces are being played and sung. This year's festival started last week and culminates today, on his birthday (he turns 82 today). I decided to go and attend one of these concerts. So on Friday evening I went up to the Old Town and sat on a bench in front of the church where this concert was to take place, and as I was a little early and was waiting for a friend to arrive with our tickets, I saw a taxi pulling up to the church, and who came out... It was Arvo Pärt together with his wife Nora. I sat there, staring at him, and my heart started beating as if I was a teenager who had just seen Justin Bieber (sorry, that was a cheap comparison). There was this whoooosh-sound going through the crowd that were waiting to get inside the church. It's Arvo Pärt, it's Arvo Pärt, people whispered.

Once we got in the church, we were looking for seats as close to the musicians as possible and when we had found them I realised Arvo and Nora Pärt were basically sitting in front of us. And I thought, this might be the only time I see him. I've got to go and speak to him. So I did. He stood in the aisle so I picked up all my courage and I approached him and said, "Mister Pärt, may I say something to you?"

What I said I didn't come up with on the spot. Actually, I've known for a long time what I would want to say to him, should I ever meet him. So I knew exactly. I said, "Sir, I wanted to thank you for your music. A couple of years ago when my mother died, I was unable to listen to music for some time. It was as if the world went dark and silent. And it was your music that was the first thing I could listen to again. It was your music that brought me back to the land of the living." And he just stood there, the most talented and humble man I've ever seen, and his eyes shone brightly. I could tell he was happy. And I was getting a little emotional too because it meant a world to me to be able to tell him this. So we spoke for a while - it was a rather awkward converstaion as he's not a very social person (which I already knew as I've watched several documentaries about his life) -, he asked me who I was and what I did, sounding genuinely interested, and in the end he wished me every blessing and he reached out his hand and shook mine. His hand was warm, as warm as his smile.

I sat there afterwards and listened to his Stabat Mater and Estonian Lullaby and one more of his pieces which I hadn't heard before, and I thought to myself: I could die in peace now.

Actually, no. There are two people I've desperately wanted to meet in my life. One was Arvo Pärt. That's done now. The other is my favourite writer, Frederick Buechner. But he's 91 and lives in the USA so the chances aren't good.

But even if I don't meet him, that's alright. I'll find him, once we're on the other side of Jordan. So it doesn't matter. All is well.

Happiest of birthdays, Arvo Pärt! Your music has changed lives. Mine, anyway.