Today, 13 September 2026, Estonia celebrates Grandparents Day — a day for the people who taught us, fed us, worried about us, told us stories and quietly helped shape us to who we are.
There are certain things grandparents seem particularly good at. Knowing things nobody taught them. Keeping objects for 40+ years because “you never know when you might need it”. Feeding you approximately eleven minutes after you have explained, quite clearly, that you are not hungry. And asking questions for which there is apparently only one acceptable answer:
“Are you eating properly? Are you wearing enough clothes? Would you like something to eat?”
Yes, Grandma. Yes to all of it. Especially if there are cabbage rolls (followed by cake — but not necessarily in that order).
Vanavanemate päev, Grandparents Day, is one of Estonia’s newer national observances, officially celebrated since 2010 on the second Sunday of September — complete with parliamentary approval and, naturally, the hoisting of the Estonian flag.
The idea behind it is beautifully simple: to recognise and thank grandparents for the love, care, knowledge and life experience they give to children, grandchildren and families.
And there are quite a few grandparents to thank. According to fresh figures from Statistics Estonia, 330,291 people living in Estonia are grandparents — 24.3% of the population. Among them are 210,448 grandmothers and 119,843 grandfathers, with an average of three grandchildren each. They also rather neatly demonstrate that there is no correct age for looking like somebody’s grandparent: 169 are under 40, while 95 are over 100 years old.
And then there are the 17 grandparents with more than 30 grandchildren. At that point, remembering everybody’s birthday isn’t grandparenting anymore. It’s project management, and I wonder if they use a spreadsheet?
By the time I was born, both of my grandfathers were already gone, so I never had the chance to know them. But I did have two grandmothers — one in Tallinn and one in Valga. And when I think of them now, I don’t first remember anything grand or profound. I remember a dog, a gate, rabbits, glasses, potatoes, cabbage rolls and a banana. Their smiling faces. And the love, of course.
My Tallinn grandmother lived nearby, so she was part of my everyday childhood. She had a small orange dog called Tipa, who was frequently up to no good, and Grandma worked in a special officers’ shop during Soviet times. Occasionally she brought home delicacies ordinary Estonians couldn’t easily buy, and thanks to her I tasted a banana before many of my peers. I couldn’t understand why, if these miraculous yellow things existed, we couldn’t simply eat them every day. A visit to my city grandma always came with delicious treats and that wonderful childhood question: what might she have for us this time?
My father’s mother lived all the way in Valga — a considerable distance on the Estonian childhood map — so I saw her mostly during the summers. I remember her white house and the rustic fence I couldn’t open, the rabbits in cages in the backyard that we patted whenever Mum allowed us, and the vegetable garden where Grandma grew potatoes. I remember her big round glasses and, most of all, her big smile. She reminded little-me of an owl — a very friendly one.
And naturally, I remember the food. When I asked Mum what she remembered my grandmothers cooking particularly well, her answer came quickly.
“Valga Grandma made wonderful cabbage rolls. Tallinn Grandma made wonderful kotletid and pancakes.” Then she travelled one generation further back. Her own grandmother, my great-grandmother, was apparently another formidable cook: pancakes, mashed potatoes, liver sauce, kotletid and sauerkraut soup all made the list.
“On the mornings of my final exams at Roosna-Alliku school, Grandma always made me fried bread with butter. It was absolutely delicious,” Mum remembered.
There it is again: generations remembered through food. Not necessarily the grand celebrations or important dates, but pancakes before school, cabbage rolls in Valga and the things somebody made especially for you because they loved you.
Perhaps that is also why Grandparents Day is worth more than flowers and a card. Grandparents carry pieces of our family history that can disappear surprisingly quickly if nobody thinks to ask about them. They remember people we never met, places that no longer look the same, the songs of their time, family jokes whose origins everyone else has forgotten, recipes that were never written down and versions of our parents that our parents may prefer remained classified.
And they had whole lives before we came along. Grandma did not arrive on Earth aged 68 wearing sensible shoes and carrying a saucepan. Grandpa probably had hair once. They were children themselves; then teenagers and young adults. They fell in love, made mistakes, had adventures, wore fashions they may now deny ever existed, worried about money, dreamed about the future and somehow travelled all those years until one day a small person appeared and called them vanaema or vanaisa.
We often know our grandparents mainly as they existed in relation to us. But behind Grandma and Grandpa are whole human beings — and if we’re lucky enough to still have them here, there are stories waiting to be asked for. Remember to ask.
What about gifts, you wonder.
In Estonia, flowers, handmade cards and family visits are among the traditional ways of remembering grandparents today. All are lovely, but perhaps the most valuable present is also the simplest: give them some of your time and presence.
Call your grandmother. Visit your grandfather. Make the tea and sit down without checking the clock. Ask what they were like at 20, what ridiculous thing they once did, how they met the person they loved, what they dreamed of becoming, what frightened them, what made them happiest. And when they tell you a story you’ve already heard seventeen times, listen anyway. One day you may discover you would give almost anything to hear it for the eighteenth.
If, like me, your grandparents are now “with the angels”, as my sister puts it, Grandparents Day can belong to them too. Take out the photographs. Cook the cabbage rolls. Tell someone younger the story they never had the chance to hear. Light a candle, say their names and let them sit at the family table again for a little while.
Those of us connected to both Estonia and Australia even get a bonus round: Australia celebrates Grandparents Day on the last Sunday of October — 25 October this year. After years of living between two countries and getting seasons, time zones and Christmas weather hopelessly confused, finally the system works in our favour. We get to celebrate twice.
So wherever your grandparents are today — across the table, across the world or now living only in the stories you carry — perhaps Grandparents Day is really just a small reminder to show up. Give them a call, a hug, an afternoon, a question, a memory or a candle.
And if Grandma or Grandpa asks whether you’ve eaten, don’t waste precious time arguing. Have the cabbage rolls. Happy Grandparents Day!
Read more
Celebrating National Grandparents Day
Grandparents Day in Estonia | Rahvakalender (In Estonian)
Vanavanemate päev | National holidays (In Estonian)
12 interesting facts about grandparents in Estonia | Statistikaamet (In Estonian)
