Remember when you had a village to raise your kids? Your parents need one too.

You're calling your parent daily "just to check in" but it feels like surveillance - for both of you. You're the only one who knows when they've missed their regular Tuesday bowls or when the bins didn't go out. You're lying awake, wondering if they fell and no one would know for hours. You feel like you're doing this alone.

If that's you, keep reading. This is about building the support network your parent needs, and you need too.

Now it's 10pm on a Wednesday, and your dad hasn't answered his phone since this morning. Who do you call? Who lives near him? Who would actually know if something's wrong?

Nobody. You're managing this alone.

When you had a new baby, people asked, "what can I do to help?" And you let them. Someone brought casseroles. Someone held the baby while you showered. Someone picked up nappies from the supermarket.

You knew you couldn't do it alone. Everyone knew you couldn't do it alone.

But now your dad's living alone, struggling with stairs, forgetting appointments, and you're trying to handle it yourself. Driving three hours each way every weekend. Calling daily. Coordinating everything from 500km away.

Why?

Maybe because admitting your parent needs help feels different from admitting your baby needed help. Babies are supposed to need help. Parents aren't.

Or maybe because asking neighbours to check on your dad feels like you're imposing. They didn't sign up for this.

Except here's what you learned when your kids were small: people like helping. They just need to know what would actually be useful.

"Let me know if you need anything" is too vague. "Could you grab Dad's newspaper if you're walking past on Tuesday mornings?" is something someone can actually do.

Before motion sensors and medical alarms, there were neighbours. Friends. People who noticed when something was off.

You had this when your kids were young. Mrs Chen next door knew your schedule and would text if she saw your daughter still waiting at the bus stop at 4:15 pm. The dad from soccer knew you were separated and made sure to save you a seat at games. The school secretary remembered your mum had been sick and asked how she was doing.

That network - the human one - worked because:

1. People knew each other

2. People knew your situation

3. People knew what would actually help

4. Helping was reciprocal, not one-sided

Your parent needs exactly this. Except instead of "can you grab my kid if I'm late?" it's "can you check if Dad's bins are out on collection day?" Instead of "mind taking them both to swimming?" it's "would you knock on the door if his curtains are still closed at lunchtime?"

Same principle. Different generation.

Your parent will say this. You'll feel this.

Australians pride ourselves on not imposing. On managing. On being right, mate. On being fine.

But here's what you knew when you were raising kids: helping each other made everyone's life better. Not just easier - better. You got to know your neighbours. Your kids had more adults who cared about them. Your street felt like a community, not just houses next to each other.

This does the same thing. When you ask Mrs Canto to keep an eye out for Dad, you're giving her a way to help someone she already sees regularly. Most people want to be useful. You're not imposing - you're including her.

And when her husband needs help next year? You'll be there.

Step 1: Map your parent's existing network

Who lives near your parent? Who sees them regularly? The neighbour who shares a fence line. The woman at the corner shop where they buy their newspaper. The local pharmacist who fills their prescriptions. People at their bowls club, church, or Probis group.

These people already know your parent. They're already part of their daily life. You're not asking them to become carers - you're asking them to be what they already are: people who notice.

Step 2: Be specific about what would actually help

Don't say: "Keep an eye on Mum for me."

Say this instead (for neighbours): "Hi, I'm Sarah, Tom's daughter. Dad's living alone now after Mum died. I'm not asking you to become his carer, but if you notice his newspaper still on the doorstep at lunchtime or his bins not out on collection day, could you send me a quick text? It would give me huge peace of mind. Here's my number . And if your family ever needs anything, please let me know."

Say this (for their friends): "Dad mentioned that you and he usually meet for coffee on Thursdays at the RSL. If he doesn't show up one week, would you mind giving me a quick call? I'm not trying to monitor him - I just want to make sure someone notices if something's wrong. Here's my number."

Say this (for aged cre staff): "I know you see Mum every day and I really value that. I want to be someone you can call if you notice anything - even small changes in appetite, mood, or how engaged she is with activities. I'd rather hear about small things early than big things late. Here's my mobile. Please call anytime, day or night."

Specific, doable, doesn't require hours of time.

Step 3: Make it reciprocal

Remember how raising kids was easier when you were helping each other's families? Same here.

Your dad might not be able to return the exact favour someone does for him. But you can. When your neighbour checks on Dad and texts you, you remember that. When their mum needs something, you pay it forward.

You're in the sandwich generation. So are most of the people around you. They're worried about their parents, too. Help each other.

Step 4: Know who's actually around during the day

When your kids were young, you knew which neighbours worked from home, which were retired, and which had irregular schedules. You knew who was actually around if something went wrong at 11am on a Tuesday.

Map this for your parents' neighbourhood. Who's around? Who walks past the house regularly? Who would notice if something was off?

The retired couple who live two doors down. The shift worker across the road who is often home during the day. The woman who walks her dog past your dad's house twice daily.

These are the people who can actually respond if something goes wrong.

Step 5: Create a simple check-in system

You don't need an app or a formal system. You need people who talk to each other.

When our kids were at school, we had a WhatsApp group for pickups and drop-offs. "Running late." "Can someone grab Noah?" "I've got him." Three messages, problem solved.

Create something similar for your parent. A small group - you, a local friend of theirs, a nearby neighbour, maybe a sibling if local. Not 23 people like some family groups. Four or five people who are actually positioned to help.

The purpose: Quick communication when something's needed. "Dad hasn't answered his phone since yesterday morning, can someone knock on his door?" "I'm visiting this weekend, who needs me to grab something for them while I'm there?"

 

The principle is the same everywhere: your parent needs more than one person noticing how they're doing.

If they're in independent living or residential care, you still build the network. You get to know the other residents' families. You learn who visits regularly. You create relationships with staff who see your parent daily.

You know which nurse really knows your mum. You know which resident's daughter visits on Tuesdays and would text if something seemed off. You know which staff member to call if you're worried.

When our kids were at daycare, we knew which educators really saw our children. We built relationships with them. Same here.

 

Jane's dad, Tom, was 82 and living alone in the same house for 50 years in Frankston. Jane lived in Brisbane with three kids. She called daily but worried constantly.

She started simple. She introduced herself properly to Tom's immediate neighbours. Not just waving from the car, actually knocking on doors. She said: "Dad's living alone now. I'm not asking you to look after him, but if you notice anything unusual - bins not out, lights not on, newspapers piling up - could you text me? Here's my number."

Three neighbours said yes. The woman next door, the retired teacher across the road, the couple who walked their dog past twice daily.

Four months later, the dog-walking couple texted: "Haven't seen Tom for two days. His car hasn't moved. Curtains closed."

Jane called. No answer. She called the neighbour, who had a key. They found Tom on the bathroom floor. He'd fallen, couldn't get up, been there about 15 hours. Dehydrated, scared, but okay.

The neighbour called an ambulance. Stayed with him. Texted Jane updates. Met Jane at the hospital when she flew down that afternoon.

Afterwards, Jane thanked her profusely. The neighbour said: "My mum lived alone too. Someone did this for her. I'm just passing it on."

 

For someone at home:

• Neighbour texts if bins aren't out by collection day

• Friend from bowls club calls if Dad misses his regular Tuesday game

• Pharmacist has your number and texts if Dad seems confused picking up prescriptions

• You have a key safe so someone can check inside if needed

• Local café owner knows Dad comes in every morning for a flat white and would notice if he didn't

For someone in independent living:

• You know three other families whose parents live there

• You've got the community manager's number and they know you're an engaged family member

• Your parent's upstairs neighbour has your number

• You know which activities your parent attends and who would notice if they stopped showing up

• The front desk staff know your voice and take your concerns seriously

For someone in residential care:

• You know the names of staff who work your parents' wing

• You've built relationships with other residents' families

• You visit at different times so different staff get to know you

• You know which resident regularly sits with your mum at meals

• Staff text you if something's wrong because you've made it clear you want to know

Motion sensors are useful. Medical alarms are important. Smart home tech has its place.
See: Safety Measures That Don't Scream 'I Don't Trust You Anymore' for more on this.

But research shows that caregivers report isolation as one of the most stressful parts of caregiving And villages (actual human networks) can help to solve isolation.

They solve it for your parent, who has people noticing them and checking in.
They solve it for you, who aren't carrying this entirely alone.

And critically, they solve it for the next person. Because when you help someone else's mum, they remember. And they help someone else later.

 

Not everyone will say yes. Some people aren't positioned to help. They're dealing with their own stuff, they're barely managing, they don't want the responsibility.

That's okay. You're looking for the people who can help, not forcing everyone to.

If a neighbour says no: "I understand. No worries at all." Then move on.

If your parent refuses: "I know you don't want people 'checking up' on you. But I need this for my peace of mind. Can we try it for a month and see how it goes?"

If someone says yes, then never follows through: That's information. Remove them from your mental list of reliable people and focus on the ones who actually show up.

 

Building a community network is essential. But it's not a substitute for professional care when that's needed.

Signs you need more than a village:

• Multiple falls or near-falls per month

• Confusion about medications or regularly forgetting to take them

• Weight loss or signs that they're not eating properly

• Significant cognitive decline or memory issues

• Leaving the stove on, forgetting to lock doors, and other safety risks

• Inability to manage personal care (bathing, dressing, toileting)

• Wandering or getting lost in familiar places

• Aggressive behaviour or significant personality changes

The village notices these things early. That's its value. But when they show up, it's time to explore other care options.
See: Types of Care for Ageing Parents: A Simple Guide.

Villages support ageing at home. They don't replace care when care is needed.

If you're seeing these red flags but your parent refuses help, see:
The 'What If' Conversation for how to have difficult conversations about safety and care needs.

 

When your kids were young, other parents offered help because babies are visible. Everyone could see you were managing a toddler meltdown at Coles or juggling twins at school pickup.

Ageing parents are less visible. People don't know your dad's struggling unless you tell them.

So you have to say it out loud: "Dad's not managing as well as he used to." "Mum's living alone and I'm worried." "I could use some help keeping an eye on things."

That's hard. It feels like admitting failure. Like you should be handling this yourself.

Except you didn't feel that way about raising kids. You knew it took a village. You built one.

Your parent needs the same thing.

If you're building a village for your parent, your siblings need to know about it too. Not to get their permission - but so they're part of it.

Send them this article with: "I'm setting up a support network for Mum/Dad. Here's what I'm doing and why. Let me know if you want to be part of the communication channel."

Getting everyone aligned early prevents the "why didn't anyone tell me?" conversations later.

For more on navigating sibling dynamics when care needs are changing, see:
The siblings who disappeared all year suddenly have opinions about Mum's care.

 

Monday: Map your parents' existing network
Who do they see regularly? Who lives nearby? Who's around during the day? Write it down.

Tuesday: Pick three people to approach
The neighbour most likely to notice if something's wrong. A friend who visits regularly. Someone at their RSL, church, cafe or local group.

Wednesday: Have the conversation
"Dad's living alone now. I'm not asking you to look after him, but if you notice anything unusual, could you text me? Here's my number."
Be specific about what "unusual" means: bins not out, curtains closed all day, not at usual activities.

Thursday: Create the communication channel
Small WhatsApp group or text thread. Just the people who are positioned to help. Keep it simple.

Friday: Say thank you in advance
"I really appreciate this. It makes such a difference knowing someone's around." People respond to appreciation.

This month: Start reciprocating
Pay it forward. Help someone else. Offer to check on their parent if you're visiting yours. Drop off shopping for a neighbour. 

Within six months: You'll be part of someone else's village too 
Because that's how this works. You're all in the sandwich generation together. You help each other's parents. The network grows.

You built a village to raise your kids. You're building one now for your parent.

And here's what you might not realise yet: those kids you raised? They're watching. They're learning that this is what families do. That community isn't something you hope exists. It's something you build.

When you need your own village someday, they'll know how to build it.

That's not just caring for your parent. That's showing the next generation what caring looks like.

Your parent needs a village. You're building one. And in building it, you're becoming part of someone else's village too.

That's not a burden. That's what communities actually are.