In Poland, in particular, it's one of the more major holidays I've witnessed. Special bus lines run often, ferrying the enormous crowds to the cemeteries on the outskirts of the cities. The cemeteries themselves begin to look like bazaars, with candle sellers, florists, vendors selling special candies called Skórka Panska (Lordly Skin/Leather. It's like a hard taffy.) and baked goods (tiny bagels!), plus others selling gloves, scarves, socks, hats, earrings, and mittens. Young and old flood in amongst the dead, searching for the graves. Some wander about, trying to discern which headstone is the right one. When they get their, they clear away the fallen leaves, dead flowers, and extinguished candles and replace them with new ones. Sometimes, they come and discover that another family member has come and already placed candles and flowers. The grave sites turn into mini gardens and shrines. Most say a small prayer, and leave, perhaps to find the next grave.
Scouts selling candles.
The crowd on the way to a cemetery.
Florists doing brisk business.
A virtual market and bazaar at the cemetery gates.
A shrine to those who perished under communism.
The crowd inside the cemetery.
The graves decorated with candles and flowers.
Supposedly, gypsies come to the cemeteries and hold mini parties atop their graves. After wandering around a little, keeping an eye out for drinking and feasting gypsies, I rationalized that it was too early in the morning for even gypsies to take to the bottle.
After a visit to the ancestors' graves, the families usually return home for an afternoon dinner.