Let me try to offer the condensed version so I don't go too far off-topic. Kris was already in foster care when I met him. I was already approved to be a foster parent. We got along great and he wanted me to be his new father. I let foster care know I was willing to adopt him after the required one year of foster care. At the last minute the state replaced him with someone else that I refused. After a few months Kris contacted me via e-mail; I had given him my business card. He wanted to run away and come live with me. I told him I still loved him, but he had to tough it out where he was until he turned 18 and the state kicked him out of the foster care system, at which point I'd make sure he could get here where I could take care of him and get him off to a good start in life. There is so much more to the story, but I gave you just the essential details.
I'm in sort of the same situation. I'm the last male of the family. I do have a sister. Nevertheless, I used to feel sad that the family name would die with me. It took me awhile to accept that names are just names. My sister has two sons--I love my nephews as if they were my own kids--who will keep the family alive. Even though the family name will be different they'll still keep the family itself alive. I guess when you're gay sometimes you have to be willing to make some compromises with yourself about things like this. I've learned to be happy the family will live on via my nephews and their progeny.