There's no magic number, and anyone who hands you one is guessing. How often to look in on a parent living alone depends on them, on you, and on what "looking in" even means — and the shape of it matters far more than the count.
More isn't automatically better
The instinct is to reach for more: more calls, more visits, more "are you alright?" But past a point that stops being care and starts being supervision. A parent who feels checked up on can begin to feel managed — or like a job on someone's list — and may even play down how they're really doing, to spare you the worry. Too little, though, and the unease creeps back while the small things go unseen: a skipped meal, muddled tablets, a scam call that rattled them. There's a balance, and it sits in a different place for every family.
What actually sets the right rhythm
Be honest with yourself about a few things:
- How are they, really? Someone steady and well needs a lighter touch than someone just out of hospital, unsteady on their feet, or newly on their own.
- How far away are you — and is there anyone nearby?
- How much other company do they have? If you're one of only a few voices they hear in a week, your calls carry more weight — and more of that weight is company than checking.
- Has something just changed? After a fall, a hospital stay, or losing a partner, turn it up for a while. Ease off again as things settle.
Two questions that deserve different answers
Most of us tangle together two things that want very different rhythms:
- "Are you safe?" — this wants to be daily and light. A quick signal that all's well, not an event.
- "How are you, really?" — this wants to be less often and warmer. A proper call or visit that's about them, not a status check.
Push both through the same anxious daily phone call and the call turns into an inspection: it loses its warmth, and somehow still leaves you not quite sure. Pull them apart and each one works. The daily touch quietly settles the worry, which frees the weekly call to be what it should be — a chat about the garden, or what the grandchildren are up to.
Let the daily part look after itself
This is where a light, once-a-day check-in earns its keep, so that "are you safe today?" isn't riding on your phone call. That's the job My Companion does: your mum or dad taps once a day, whenever suits — an early riser can do it over breakfast and think no more of it — and you simply see that all's well. If the day drifts past without a tap, it gives them a gentle nudge, and only then lets the family know.
It's theirs to control, and it shows you reassurance, not their whereabouts — where they've been is still nobody's business but their own. It's a small subscription with a free trial, and it isn't an alarm or a medical service: for a fall or a crisis, that's still 999, and a proper alarm pendant if they have one. What it does do is lift the daily "are they alright?" clean off your shoulders, so your own calls can go back to being about how they are, not whether they are.
So: check the safety daily and lightly, make real contact weekly and warmly, and turn both up whenever life wobbles — then let them settle again. There's more on keeping that daily touch from tipping into hovering in knowing a parent is okay without hovering, and the everyday shape of it in a daily check-in for a parent living alone.